Chronicle of Darkness
by Lynx Klaw
Summary: Events after Dark Fury totally rewritten. TCoR my way. JackRiddick. Jack remained on Helion. After five years, Riddick returns... this sets a series of events in motion that neither could have foreseen. Rated M for language, violence, adult themes, etc...
1. 1: Duplicity of the Knight

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 1: Duplicity of the Knight_

She knew what she had asked was unfair. It really was. She now realized that no matter how much he may have wanted to, he couldn't have taken her with him. But she also knew he was coming back... She had proof. This was her one consolation. She still wore it around her neck, that two-inch fang, on a metal chain. Some at school had asked what it was... She never told them and didn't plan on telling.

Audrey J. Knight slowly walked out of the school, idly stroking the sharp edges of the tooth. It had lodged in his skin just above the ankle; pierced straight through the boot. The monster it came from was dead, now, of course. And Riddick had kept it, saying it was a reminder of what a real monster was.

Before he left, he told them he still wasn't sure if he could rejoin the human race. He needed time to think about it, but there were too many mercs on his back to stay with them to contemplate it. He gave her the tooth, and she still remembered what he said.

'_I gotta lay low for a while 'til the tracks go cold. Need time to think, too. _Do not_ lose that. I'll be back for it._'

'_Could you help me with my calculus homework?_'

What? Riddick hadn't said that... She blinked and looked up from the tooth. It was Rachel, a short, redheaded girl. She was one of her two friends; her only friends. They'd decided to stop by a small cafe on the way home. She had almost forgotten they were walking with her...

The brown-haired girl stared at her friend blankly, as if she didn't comprehend what had been asked. Finally, the words got through and she replied at length, "Uh, okay."

Cassandra was her other friend; she had a dusky complexion and blonde hair. Cassie was taller than Audrey by a couple of inches, but did not have the same athletic build. She was much less shy than Rachel; more boisterous and tomboyish than the redhead even though she preferred the skirt and blouse as opposed to Audrey's pants and blouse. The other option of school-issued clothing was for those of the Chrislamic faith, which was a long, dark robe.

It wasn't apparent by looking at her, but Audrey--who, in private, went by Jack--was probably the toughest person in the school of either gender. Beneath the white blouse and tan pants were honed muscles that had been training to kill without excess movement and the least amount of energy. No one knew that, of course. No one knew that she was already a killer, and that she still had the weapon as a trophy from a kill: a rifle that had belonged to a man named Junner Front. She used it to blast the head off a psycho-bitch named Antonia Chillingsworth on a merc ship. It was her second kill, to date. But no one needed to know that, either.

Audrey never stuck out. She never did anything different than anyone else. The only thing that made her an outsider was her initial appearance in the school four years ago. Her hair had still been cropped to an inch. She had let it grow some since; it now came down to the bottom of her shoulder blades. She did her homework, she was on time, and she made good grades... Nothing about her ever stood out.

"So, Audrey, who's taking you to the dance?" Cassandra asked.

Jack blinked at her, "I'm not going, Cassie. I'm busy."

"Busy," echoed Rachel, "They're not giving any homework so everyone can attend. What could you possibly be doing the night of the dance?"

"Tr-" the girl trailed off. Her gait immediately halted and she stood stalk still. Her inner animal, still so young, suddenly felt threatened. It knew there was a much larger, much nastier animal out there. Somewhere, it was watching her... and it knew she was an animal, too.

Cassie and Rachel paused to stare at Audrey, who had an impassive look of concentration on her face. Her eyes moved back and forth over them and beyond them unseeingly.

"Audrey?" Rachel asked. Neither of them had ever seen her like this.

Jack's shoulders sagged slightly, becoming lax. Her left hand moved toward her right sleeve inconspicuously. Suddenly, she whirled around with her shiv in hand, and flung it. It spun through the air and embedded itself into a thick tree planted near the school grounds with a dull thump. There were few trees on New Mecca, and only those transplanted and kept up with off-planet soil. Behind this thick, oak-like tree, a figure emerged to lean against its side.

"Knight," said the deep, growling voice, "Don't you think it's a little morbid to pick a last name based on one of the worst points in your life, _Au-drey_?"

He moved around the tree and gripped the shiv. After pulling it out of the trunk, he approached the trio silently, making two of them flinch as the blade caught the sunlight.

The way he said her name was almost mocking, as if Audrey was unfitting. Well, it was, but that was beside the point. She couldn't think of a response... his mere presence stifled the air out of the atmosphere. Finally she closed her gaping mouth and formed a coherent thought.

"Ri-" she paused, quickly correcting herself, "Rick..."

Five years. Five years and she felt like she had when she was twelve.

"_Audrey_."

"Au-Audrey, we should get away from him... he looks dangerous," Cassie said, ignoring the fact that her friend had just launched a shiv into a tree.

Rick wore brown cargo pants and a black tank, covered by a cloak that he casually pulled back to reveal his bald, goggled head. A smirk pulled at the edges of his lips at Cassie's statement.

"He _is_," said Jack, grinning at Riddick. She had dreamed of this moment for so long!

Suddenly, Jack felt a rush of elation. He'd come back! Finally, after five years, he'd come back. But of course he did; he wouldn't have lied about something like that. She wasn't sure what to say, so she began to walk toward him. His words stopped her, however.

"What did I tell you about shivs?" he growled.

Her exuberance immediately died and she felt like she _was_ twelve again. He shows up after five years and the first thing he does is scold her? Jack felt her cheeks grow hot as she remembered what he'd told her. He'd also given her a list of activities; training, actually, which she was to independently perform. She dutifully followed the rather free-form instructions and improved herself every day. She hoped he didn't think she'd forgotten or, even worse, didn't keep up!

She mumbled, "Only throw your shiv when there are no other options..."

"So why did you throw your shiv," he demanded more than asked.

Her voice became defensive, "I was hoping I could just make you decide I was too risky of a target."

"We'll talk intimidation later... but it might have been better," he reached out to flip the collar of her blouse, "if you weren't wearing this."

She crossed her arms and glared at him, "It's school issue!"

Riddick chuckled and raised the shiv up in front of his face. He tilted his head to the side. Jack watched him and fought the urge to rush over to him and just... just... bear hug him or _something_! But she knew better. He wasn't given to large displays of affection. The most she'd ever received was a hand on her shoulder when her thoughts got the best of her or if she woke up from a nightmare. It was enough, however; more than enough for her to know he was concerned.

"Did you make this shiv?" he asked, staring at the slightly curved, razor weapon in his grip.

She nodded.

"It's too heavy on the back end."

"_Oh_. No, it's not," she said, quickly moving to his side and grabbing his hand in both of hers.

"Audrey!" Rachel exclaimed, watching her friend approach the large, imposing man who simply screamed 'lethal.'

Jack blinked and looked at them as if just noticing their presence, "Uh... Why don't you go on without me? I'll see you guys at school tomorrow."

Rachel and Cassie were reluctant to leave the sometimes unorthodox girl with this man, so they simply stared at her. She always kept her distance from everyone in school; hardly anyone knew anything about her even after five years. Many had given up trying to get to know her, and she had only the two girls as her friends. Even they didn't know much about her, but her nature and simple presence was like being in a wild, yet protective wolf's territory.

Riddick allowed her to pry his thumb away from the shiv. She moved it to the quillon, where there was a depression. He frowned as she placed his thumb on the depression.

"Use that to rotate the guard to the left," Jack pointed enthusiastically.

Riddick raised a brow, but did as she instructed. There was a barely audible click and he felt the weight in the grip drop... And a spike fell out of the pommel the same length as the grip.

"It takes some getting used to the new balance, but it sometimes comes in handy," she said excitedly.

"Looks nice, but does it work?" Riddick asked skeptically.

"Of course it does!" she retorted indignantly.

It was almost like he'd never left, Jack felt. They simply seemed to fall into place once more. It was a tad awkward to pick up like this after so many years, but she wasn't going to let that get in the way. She looked up to his face and realized he was frowning.

"What?"

"You could never hit a target before," he said, "I remember that much before I left."

She shook her head, "I know, but after I started school, I found out why. You were training me wrong--Hey, just hold on a minute, let me finish. I'm left-handed. You were teaching me to throw with my right; after my first week of school, I decided that if I handled a pen half as well as I did a shiv, I might as well try throwing with my left."

"You favored your right hand," the convict reminded.

"It was stronger and hit better," Jack replied.

Riddick finally took the time to study the girl. She was seventeen, now. She'd filled out, definitely unable to pass herself off as a boy, anymore. She was taller now, just a few inches shorter than him. She had let her hair grow out, too. From the quick reconnaissance he had done, her grades were good and she had integrated back into humanity--away from predators, convicts, and the darkness fairly well. But he knew a part of her was fused with all of that; he knew her animal would never let her fully join humanity. At least she could be a part of it, though. She hadn't burnt that bridge as he had.

He looked up from studying her and glanced to the two girls behind her, "Hm. So who're your friends?"

Rachel squeaked and hid behind Cassie. Jack turned around, staring at them again. Why were they still here? She had told them they could leave... They looked rather rooted to the spot. She smirked slightly; Riddick had that effect on people.

She laughed gently, "That's Cassie and the one trying to become invisible is Rachel. Cassie, Rachel, this is" _Richard B. Riddick_. _Escaped convict_. _Murderer_. "Rick..."

Cassandra was the first one to nervously address the man, half-expecting him to kill her for looking at him in any perceived derogatory way. How could Audrey stand beside him so confidently, so at ease, and speak with him so freely when the man reeked of something... dark.

"H-hello, um, Rick... So," she continued trying not to sound prying for fear she might be snapped in half by those huge, powerful hands, "how do you know Audrey?"

Cassandra stared at the goggles and wondered why he wore them, but was afraid to ask. Suddenly a wide smirk, not quite a grin or a smile, tripped across his features in an almost predatory way. When Rick spoke, it seemed somewhat sarcastic, cryptic, as if he were telling them an inside joke he knew they would not understand.

"We survived a rather long night."

Jack was staring at him with a look that clearly indicated she did not find that funny at all.

"Can I have her back, now?" she impatiently asked.

Rachel and Cassandra tensed at the tone she used and even further when he lifted it up and tapped her nose with the flat of the shiv.

"You threw her away. You'll have to come get her, now," he rumbled in an amused but serious growl. His voice dropped until only she could hear, "The gym's empty; meet me in five minutes and you'll have a chance to get her back."

Jack rubbed her nose and sighed; she supposed that's what she got for forgetting her lessons. She watched him turn and walk away. He rounded the back of the school before she shook her head. Five minutes! She couldn't stand there and talk with her friends if she wanted her shiv back. She growled and grumbled to herself. The gym was locked after school. If she was going to find a way in, she'd have to leave now.

"Shit," she muttered. She quickly glanced to her friends as she quickly shrugged out of her backpack, "I can't make it to the cafe, today. Sorry... Damnit, I know it's in here... Why don't you--ha!--go on without me?"

She waded through her backpack and pulled out a small knife and slipped it into her boot. Jack had complied with every dress code save the shoes, and still wore boot-like shoes just high enough to conceal the blade. She reached in and snagged a shiv that looked much like the one Riddick had just taken.

"_Audrey_! What are you doing with all those knives? We're not allowed to have those!" exclaimed the redhead.

With that said, it brought attention to a fact that they had seemingly skipped over with the arrival of Rick. Audrey had blades... and she apparently knew how to use them. They waited for Audrey to respond, but she deftly slipped the shiv up her sleeve and closed the pack.

"Don't wait up, I'll see you guys tomorrow!" she said cheerily, as if nothing were out of place. She took off, running after Rick--she had about four minutes to break into the gym.

'_How could she act like nothing happened?_' thought Cassie.

"Come on," the blonde said, grabbing Rachel's hand and dragging her protesting friend behind her, "We'd better follow her to make sure nothing happens to her; I don't trust that guy."

She pulled the reluctant Rachel around the school, coming to the back, where the gym stood. They saw Audrey run up to the doors and yank on them. Then they heard something they had never heard her say before.

"Fuck!" she jerked on the doors again, and then let loose a string of epithets that had her unknown watchers' jaws dropping and their ears burning. With a stubborn kick to the door, she jogged around to the side of the gym.

She looked around, looking for another entryway, but found only a dumpster sitting there. Wait, the gym had skylights! She grinned, shrugged off her backpack, and then shut the dumpster lid. With a shocking display of strength which, until now, no one had seen, she leapt onto the dumpster and fairly sprung from it as if it were a trampoline. She managed to grab onto the fire escape ladder and pulled herself upward by pure upper body strength until she could put a foot on a rung.

Jack made quick work of running up the steps and managed to grab onto the roof's ledge on her second jump. Pulling herself up, she left her two friends standing at the corner of the school, watching her progress.

"I didn't know Audrey was so athletic..." Rachel said in a near state of shock.

"Snap out of it, that guy's probably in there!" Cassie said, pulling her friend once more.

She knew neither of them would manage to get to the roof. It would take too long to make a team effort to make it up there, anyway. They moved over to the locked door that Audrey had thoroughly cussed out just two minutes before and peeked inside. Through the sun rays beaming through the skylights, they saw... nothing. Suddenly, a shadow blotted out part of a beam and they both looked up to find Audrey opening up the window. She dropped in some thirty yards above the ground onto the rafters. Rachel felt faint and Cassie paled--what if their friend slipped in her obvious haste?

Jack made her way across the rafters to the climbing rope; she'd laughed when the gym teacher asked her if she could climb the rope. Her body wasn't built with upper-body as its forte, but that hardly stopped her. She had hauled herself to the top of it without rest, something her body easily took after the conditioning she was undergoing at Riddick's behest. She slapped the rafters and slid down the rope quickly. As a freshman, she had the fastest rope-climb, only beaten by a record from six years ago by a senior. After the stunned faces, she quickly toned herself down--she didn't think she had made that much progress, but seeing the other girls struggle to the half-way mark made her check herself.

Dropping down the rope, she stood in the middle of a large court that resembled a cross between a soccer and football field. She strode towards its middle, extending her senses. Her entire body tingled with anticipation--this was going to be their first, official spar. Jack had followed the training schedule rigorously; loose as it was, it could be tailored to anyone of any style. It was ingenious, really. She doubted she would stack up to Riddick, but she hoped she at least did well enough for him to consider showing her more. She had to wait, now; making the first attack would be a mistake on her part... and he hadn't revealed himself, yet.

Cassie and Rachel watched from the door's window... Audrey's back was to them, tense and compact with her posture slightly lower to the ground. Out of the shadows behind her, the large form of Rick loomed soundlessly. Audrey didn't notice! How could someone so big be so quiet? His steps were silent and he was practically on top of her!

Jack's animal was roaring again. A much more powerful animal was nearby. Suddenly, she felt air against the side of her face and quickly tucked her chin. As she expected, an arm tried to get her in a choke-hold. She immediately slammed her elbows into his ribs. After two hits against solid flesh, she had won the point and he let go. Before Riddick could back away, she swept her foot behind his and turned to ram her right shoulder into him. The force of her body stumbled him backward, tripping him over her foot. He toppled over like a tree. As he fell, Jack followed him in descent, one arm out and braced by the other.

Riddick hit the ground surprised, and grunted when she landed on his stomach with an elbow. He had to admit, that was a nice one, but for his weight and size, it had too little effect. Never the less, she won the point. She rolled away and came back up to a crouch.

Riddick leisurely sat up and stood, "That's good for someone your size, but you gotta think about the bigger ones out there. That ain't gonna work."

"I've been working on it; I'll figure out something soon, unless you got pointers?" she casually, but refusing to let down her guard.

The convict didn't reply, but launched himself at her, aiming his right fist for her jaw. He wasn't going to break it, but if he hit her, it would definitely bruise and jar her senses some. He didn't have to worry, however; she was well aware of his power over her and knew that when speed and strength could not be a deciding factor, her agility and smaller stature could be used to get into the spaces normally closed off to larger fighters. She could get past their strike zone and land a few hits before dancing back out of range.

Jack ducked and moved inside the blow. However perfect it was delivered, it was now well past her. She raised a knee toward his gut, but was blocked by his own knee, batting hers aside. His left came hooking in and, off balance, all she could do was take it. The blow smashed into her cheek and rather than reel backward, the girl rolled with it delivered a backhand to his jaw. With his own leg raised, she caught him before he could plant the foot and it clipped the side of his chin. Both grounded, they were now side by side, facing opposite directions.

This time, she took the initiative and bent down. Her right leg came up behind her in a vertical strike meant to plant the flat of her foot in his face. Her attack was not fast enough and Riddick caught her foot.

"Too fancy, Jack. Pretty won't save your life," he said in a slight mock.

In a vertical split, she suddenly flung her other foot back, dandling upside down by his hold to swing the second one up. Her goal was to bring her heel down onto his shoulder, which might actually dislocate it if she put enough force behind it. Of course, he caught that one as well with hardly a blink.

"I told you, Jack. Too-"

His sentence was cut off as Jack performed a startling sit-up curl and, with one fist clasped by the other, came down onto his face like a mace.

"Not if it's a decoy!" she said, as he dropped her due to the stun of his nose being broken.

He was amazed that she would think to use a combo like that. Then again, the free-form technique he'd given her to study was so open-ended that he could see exactly how she had developed the idea of faking two slow attacks to set up a third that left the opponent wide open. Bringing up a hand, he righted his nose with a sick, crunching sound. Riddick wiped the blood from around his mouth and grinned.

"Very nice, Jack. But don't get cocky; I could have shivved your sweet spot upside down before you got that second kick in," he explained and she took it to heart. He knew she would see the critique of her work, not just an admonishment, "If you try something like that again, it won't work. They'll know it's coming. But since you seem so capable..."

"Oh, fuck," she muttered, realizing she was about to see if she could take some pain. Things were about to get heated.

He jumped toward her, faking movement to a left hook to deliver a straight jab from his right. She misinterpreted and it glanced against her cheek and nose. That ensured a proud bruise that was soon to develop from his other punch and gave her a slightly bloody nose. She ignored this as best she could and shot a leg out to catch him in the ribs. It connected, but she had stumbled too far back off balance for it to do anything then jar him. She danced backward and darted under a forward kick aimed at her gut. Jack quickly rose from her near horizontal charge to spring into an uppercut.

Riddick leaned backward just enough to miss the fist (and the elbow transition), then hammered her ribs with his right fist. Not enough break anything, but it would leave another bruise on her skin. Bruises were okay; though. Jack didn't mind bruises--they were minor pains and marks that served to remind her of lessons. A fighting study-guide written in black, blue, and sometimes purple and green...

Jack pulled back to reassert herself for another turn, eyeing her opponent. He had a slowly reddening area on the right side of his face where she'd caught him twice. Likewise, she could feel the warmth radiating from where he had landed his punch.

Riddick, too, took the chance to collect himself and give a few pointers, "You do hit harder with your right, but you overextend when you try to make your lefts stronger."

The teenager frowned and flexed her left hand, nodding only slightly. He told her these things once, verbally. And then he would begin to exploit that weakness until she stopped it. It was quite an effective method of remedying her flaws.

Finally, reading the minute movements of the muscles on his face, she knew he would wait for her this time. Watching the face and eyes often told of the maneuver before it happened. Reading telegraphed moves was a useful tool he'd taught her while they were on Chillingsworth's jumper. When he wasn't running her through an endless number of exercises, they were sitting there, eye to eye in low light.

She launched in with a flurry of punches and kicks, pressing her speed to try keeping him on the defensive. This didn't happen, of course, but she was forcing him to block more and kept him from delivering anything harder than a jab. She knew she couldn't keep it up forever, but all Jack needed was an opening and she could exploit it to the fullest in the rush.

Riddick was surprised at her progress. The training he used was almost common sense, but not well observed by many. When someone decides to start following these 'rules' religiously, they instantly begin to become something far more dangerous than the average man. It was taught in the military, martial arts, and sometimes found in dance; simple rules of balance between energy and power. Once you learned how to conserve it, when to properly release it, you became efficient. Once you applied that to your body's actions, you became a weapon.

They were both skilled. He would be the first to admit that in just a few years, with continued training and perhaps a few pointers, she could become a formidable challenge for him. That spoke volumes on how dangerous she already was.

It was an intricate dance they were performing. It was painful, but blissful, as well. Attack, dodge, counter-attack, block... They repeated and intertwined. Soon there were fists splattered with the opponent's blood. Neither cared, it was too good to stop. They hadn't pulled their shivs; by an unspoken agreement, they promised each other, '_later._' This was the time for bare, brutal contact. Weapons, extensions of the body though they were to their wielders, would somehow lessen the animosity. And the animals inside them were howling.

"Are they trying to kill each other?" Rachel asked, watching Audrey land one blow for every three she received.

It was clear to her that, as amazingly skilled as her friend was, she was completely outclassed. What boggled her mind was that her friend was so skilled in the first place! She tore her eyes away to look at Cassandra. The other girl was biting her lip and staring, too nervous for words. Still worried, the redhead turned her eyes back to the window. Rachel was afraid to call out to Audrey for fear of breaking her concentration and causing the girl to make a fatal error.

Both she and Cassie gasped when the fight came to an abrupt stop. A single opening in Jack's barrage and Riddick ended the spar with a punch to her upper stomach. The air whisked out of her and she stumbled back, unable to keep her footing. She fell backward, the power of the ground coming up to forcefully pat her on the back making her gasp and filling her lungs with fresh air after their hasty purging.

Riddick looked roused by the fight; while his adrenaline was pumping, he was hardly as winded as Jack. They would have to work more on her stamina, but she had shown remarkable skill. He reached into his waistband and pulled out the girl's shiv and approached Jack. The girls watching from the door felt their hearts jump into their throats for fear of what he would do.

Jack caught the shiv when Riddick tossed it to her despite a short coughing fit. She slipped it up her other sleeve and let her arm flop back down, laying splayed out on the floor of the gym. The girl began to chuckle and that soon turned into a tired, but content laugh.

"Wow. If I get a spar like that, I should throw her at you more often."

Riddick chuckled with her, "Don't press your luck."

She sat up, propping herself wit her elbows. Her expression sobered as she stared at him. Jack wanted to ask him, but almost feared that he would disappear if she let the one thing that hung between them out into the open air. The teen tried to suppress the urge, to be strong and let things be. She didn't want to destroy the mirth that seemed to flow while he was here with her. She tried... but failed.

"You're not going to leave soon are you?"

Riddick was silent for a few moments and Jack felt that she had just killed the good mood that had just formed. He bent down and held his arm out to her.

"When mercs start nosing around, I'm jumping," said the convict, "But I'll stick around 'til then."

She smiled and took his arm. He helped haul Jack to her feet and they both walked back toward the rope. Apparently, they'd both used the same method of entry. They talked quietly as they made their way outside.

Meanwhile, Cassandra and Rachel watched as the two climbed the rope as if the two were riding a lift. Granted, Cassandra had seen Audrey that first day in the Phys. Ed. class, doing the same thing... but until now, she hadn't had the chance to fully understand the implications.

'_I thought she was just athletic... she might actually be dangerous,_' Cassie rolled the seed around in her mind, trying to decide whether to toss it or plant it. Evil didn't really seem to be part of Audrey's nature... Even if she was decidedly dangerous, Cassandra did not feel a sense of danger from the girl. '_Great, now I've confused myself. I used to feel like I didn't need to ask questions. But now..._'

Rachel's thoughts, while somewhat similar, were more focused on Rick. He was dangerous... she felt threatened by his mere presence. Especially after seeing how he picked Audrey apart as if she were nothing... And from what she saw of Audrey, she held a new, somewhat wary respect for her reticent friend. She'd known there was something behind that soft-spoken, calm attitude. Rachel wasn't expecting this, however. She was a little startled. The redhead didn't think Audrey was vicious... but everything she'd just seen was contradicting that. For her part, Rachel was in a passive denial at the moment, still trying to come to grips with what she had just witnessed.

The girls moved around to the side of the alley, listening as Audrey and Rick came down the fire escape and dropped onto the dumpster. Audrey was laughing, but she had a small split lip, a cut above her left eyebrow, and a very large bruise across the right side of her face. She shouldered her backpack again and laughed as she talked.

"And he found a really nice lady named Lajjun," said Jack. She really liked the woman; she was usually understanding and gave great advice. Not to mention that Lajjun wasn't the 'old lady' type of woman; she knew how to have fun, too. That was the first of many things that surprised Jack about the woman.

"The Holy Man settled down and hooked up, huh?" Riddick said, picturing some prudish woman of scholarly status... like a Chrislamic librarian. He had no idea how far off the mark he was.

"Yeah, whole proper wedding an' all. Vows and all that shit. Got the whole thing on vid. Almost three hours... Took up nearly the whole damn mem-stick!"

She was sore, she was bruised, the blood felt sticky in some places as it dried, and she couldn't be happier as she regaled Riddick with updates of her life since he'd been gone. There was a thump as her convict-instructor landed on the dumpster. She turned around and started so hard her fingers went numb, dropping the backpack.

Riddick soundlessly landed behind her, "Think you're busted, Jack."

"_Me_? What about _you_?" she asked, turning around to look at his goggled face.

They seemed to have a silent conversation, which was broken by Riddick after almost a minute of silence, "I gotta unload some cargo, then I'll be dropping by. Better do some nice damage control. Any tips or rumors might just shorten my vacation."

Jack understood. If her friends talked about this, word might get out; mercs would be on his back again... and he would have to leave. Her face went stone cold in a very Riddick-esque expression. The slightly battered teenager bent down to pick up the book bag. After she had it shouldered, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Jack relaxed a bit, but still felt tense. There were no words, was no sound, but she knew he had left. Her animal wasn't sensing him anymore...

She stalked toward her two friends, trying to stay calm. It wasn't their fault; they were probably just worried about her. Riddick wasn't exactly a person that radiated a feeling of safety to others. Maybe it was just her. Still, she had told them to go!

"Why are you following me?" she demanded a little harsher than she wanted. Her friends winced and she immediately regretted saying it that way, "Sorry... I didn't mean it that way. But why didn't you just go on to the cafe?"

"W-we were worried about you. That man... he was-" Rachel began, still somewhat taken aback by Audrey's recent change--everything she thought she knew about the girl seemed to have been thrown into question, "Are you going to be alright? You're hurt..."

"Huh?" Jack said stupidly. It was then she was reminded of the small, sticky trail of almost-dried blood running down the side of her face from her brow. Without thinking, she wiped the back of her forearm across her cheek. She stopped when she realized just what she was doing, "Oh, shit! My shirt; this is gonna be hard to get out..."

"Audrey," Cassandra said suspiciously, "who was that Rick guy? And why were you fighting? ... And why did he call you 'Jack?'"

Her hand subconsciously sought out the tooth on the necklace, rubbing her thumb over its contours almost as if she could draw strength from it. The girls caught the motion. Her expression hardened as she thought over where the questions might lead. Jack needed to curtail their curiosity before it led to anything compromising.

"We weren't fighti--that's not important. Rick's just taking some time off and decided to visit. I don't need people talking, whispering behind my back, and asking me about him," said Jack. She realized she was coming off a bit harsh again and tried to reign in her impulsively aggressive nature, "He's back for a while and I don't want my time ruined by gossip. Maybe you should just pretend you never met him."

She looked upon them, trying to impose upon the two girls the importance of her statement, "You can come over for a bit, if you want, but when Rick comes back you should probably leave."

"Audrey, is it safe for you to be around him?" Cassie asked.

"Safer than anyone else," Audrey said.

They arrived at Audrey's house almost half an hour later, the girls stayed off the topic of Rick. Imam greeted the three girls, and quickly noticed Audrey's bruises and cuts. The man brought them and cleaned Audrey's cuts. When he asked what happened, Audrey said that Rick stopped by the school, where they had some fun in the gym. She went over it with Imam--with some heavy editing. Cassandra and Rachel watched as her guardian simply nodded and accepted that fact. Audrey told him that Rick was stopping by after he unloaded some cargo.

"I shall prepare more places at the table. I take it you did not go to the cafe?" he asked.

Audrey shook her head, "No, I met with Rick just as we left the school. I'll help Lajjun make some of the dinner."

Imam, however, stopped her before she could head into the kitchen, "Jack, give me your hands."

Audrey made a face, but held her hands palm up to the dark-skinned man. Rachel and Cassie caught the name again and wondered why her guardian and this 'Rick' called her Jack; the two exchanged a glance. Imam sighed and grabbed the girl's forearms and held them up, rotating them to show the backs of her blood-speckled hands. He nodded in confirmation of his suspicions and looked at Audrey squarely. She had the decency to glance away.

"I want you to go up and clean yourself. There is time for a shower before our meal will be ready." As she began to walk away, Imam called out, "And I expect you to remove your blades. I will not have tools of death at the table, Jack."

Audrey visibly deflated and sulkily trudged up the steps. Cassie frowned as she watched her friend head upstairs and then looked at Abu 'Imam' Al-Walid as he went to set the table for four more places.

"Mr. Al-Walid, may I ask you a question?" Cassie said as unobtrusively as possible.

"Of course, child. First, would you be Rachel or Cassandra? She speaks highly of you both."

She watched him carefully, trying to watch for any signals, "I'm Cassie. Why do you and Rick call Audrey 'Jack'?"

'_That was a Hell of signal,_' thought Cassie as Imam paused with a plate half-way to the table, almost dropping it before he tightened his grip. He resumed quickly enough, going about his job nonchalantly. Rachel noticed it, as well, and the two shared another glance.

"It is not my place to tell you, young Cassandra. Please ask... Audrey. She is a private person and must be the one to decide." Imam replied easily.

The girls blinked and Cassie nodded slowly. Apparently, it was a very sensitive issue. She supposed she could respect that. At that moment, the door opened and the frame of a large shadow blocked the light. The girls turned around to find Rick standing in the doorway.

Imam came to back from the dining room and paused. He let out a sigh, "The medical kit is on the coffee table. Please clean yourself up if you are to eat with us."

The girls--Cassie towing Rachel--were quick (and the latter still somewhat reluctant) to follow the man into the living room, where he pulled out some cotton balls and alcohol.

"Somethin' I can help you with, girls?" he asked in an amused tone.

Rachel squeaked again and hid behind Cassandra. Riddick smirked and turned his goggled face to them as he dabbed at the small cut near his cheek where Jack's boot had connected just enough to stagger him to the side. His smirk grew as he remembered the fluid set-up she had used; faking a left kick and a right jab to send him ducking--right into the boot.

"Sorry, don't speak mouse."

Cassie was still very on edge with this man, now aware of just how capable he was, and spoke warily. Even so, she could not help the suspicious tone that crept into her voice, "What do you do for a living, Rick?"

"Transporter. Short or long jump, do a bit of both," Riddick said, shrugging, "Cargo's been pretty light, lately, but I found more business in the Helion System. Gonna be workin' here a bit 'til business dries up."

Rachel wondered if he used to be military. It wasn't uncommon for retired military to take to the shipping lanes for an easy job. It would explain his fighting prowess, but he didn't look so old. Then again, with cryo these days, he could have spent a good deal of his life frozen, thawed for several tours of duty and only aged a couple of years.

He vaguely answered a few more of the girls' questions for a few minutes. The scent of lavender reached Riddick's nostrils a few seconds before he felt fingers slide over his scalp.

"You're stubbly," Jack stated.

Riddick chuckled, "Been kinda busy, Jack."

Jack had felt the stubble on his head earlier during her spar, but had been rather preoccupied at the time. Now that she had time, she brought two small bowls, a rag, and a towel. One bowl was empty and the other had some warm water in it. She spread some soft, clear gel atop his head from a small bottle she'd nabbed from the bathroom cabinet and procured a shiv from... somewhere. Rachel and Cassie blinked, wondering when the knife had appeared in her hand.

"Hm," was all she said, drawing the shiv over his head. She remembered the other times she'd done this. While they were still on Chillingsworth's little jumper, she'd performed this task three times on the way to Helion Prime. She watched him do it once. When she simply took the shiv out of his hands and began doing it for him, he never stopped her.

"So... if you're stickin' around for a bit, am I gonna get more spars?" she asked as she scraped the gel and stubble on the edge of the empty bowl. She repeated the process.

"Better keep some time open in your schedule. I expect you to have your homework done before you think of reaching for a shiv, though."

She gave a shrug, "No problem. 's not hard stuff."

"Um, Audrey," Rachel said timidly to gain the other girl's attention. Rick still sent a chill up her spine. She couldn't see his eyes and that made the impression even worse. "Can I ask you something?"

Jack looked up, not even pausing in the shaving. She was surprised that after five years, she could do that without cutting him, "Uh, sure. Shoot."

"Why do Mr. Rick and Mr. Al-Walid's family call you 'Jack'?"

There were a few seconds of silence and Riddick casually reached up and pried her fingers away from the bottle of gel. He still looked relaxed, but there was just the slightest crease in his forehead; an almost-frown. The convict set the bottle to the side. Her body was still tense and her knuckles remained white around the shiv, so tightly held that her fist was shaking.

"If you squeezed it anymore, Jack, and you would have had a mess to clean up," he said easily.

Jack wasn't hearing him. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. Riddick could feel her beast boiling to the surface. Damnit, he would have to teach her better control over herself. There were a few times his beast had taken over and it was never pretty. He was aware that this was a sensitive subject for her, but if she couldn't handle it... Riddick decided to start meditation lessons before each spar.

"I'm sorry, Audrey... If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," Rachel said, watching the distant, glazed look burn in her eyes like Hell had relocated into those orbs. She flinched as their sights set on her when she spoke.

Riddick heard the tiniest of sounds, a low, humming rumble. Jack was growling, slipping. Staring up at her, he noticed her unfocused stare. The girl was getting caught up in the past. He closed his eyes and slid the goggles up.

"Lights, off."

When he opened his eyes, the room was plunged into the soft orange of candlelight, the shadows play softly on the walls. His steel and steely eyes shimmered as he rose from the couch. The other girls started at the sight of his eyes, but he turned his back to them. Jack's eyes drew up to his gleaming, quick-silver pools as they fixed on hers. His right hand rested on her shoulder, as it had countless times during nightmares five years ago.

"Are you with me, Jack?"

She slowly came back to him, realizing the pain in her hand from clutching the shiv so tight, "I'm with you."

"You sure?" Riddick questioned.

She nodded and repeated, "I'm with you. Can you...?" She held up the shiv.

He gave a nod and took the blade, sitting back down and taking the bowls and rags to shave his head. The convict's stormy eyes were perfectly comfortable in the dim light as the clinking of porcelain bowls and the metal continued.

"I'm... going to my room for a bit. I'll be down for dinner, though," she said softly. It was more for Cassie and Rachel's sake than Riddick's. She looked at them for a moment and then retreated upstairs.

Cassandra frowned in worry, watching the interaction. The way they didn't even need sentences to communicate; she could see that bond. Most of the words spoken were for their benefit or emphasis. How well did Audrey know Rick? How did they develop such a bond?

The cessation of noise brought her attention toward the shiv in the man's hand as he moved it to his pants and it slipped away noiselessly. He wiped his now smooth scalp with the rag wet with warm water. The large man dried his cleaned head, and then simply tossed the towels on the settee's arm. Riddick leaned forward, watching the two of them. The Rachel girl was blatantly staring at him--his eyes, more accurately--with an almost entranced wonder. It nearly made him chuckle.

"That, girls, was an invitation. Jack doesn't open easily and you won't get another one."

Cassandra looked into his shined eyes. Yes, they were shined. Why? A transporter wouldn't need to see in the dark. His fighting made her think he might have been ex-military, like Rachel had thought, but it didn't match. Sure, Rick looked and sounded methodic, ordered, and strict, but he didn't look... controlled. There was something wild about him.

The blonde girl nodded at his words, more than a bit eager to leave his presence. Even though he seemed harmless to Jack, she was unsure if that was the case for the two of them. She stood up, motioned, and called to her friend to join her. Rachel, however, seemed to be captivated by the platinum stare that Rick had yet to remove from them.

"_Rach_," she said a bit more forcefully, "Come on, let's check on Audrey."

Rachel startled and blushed when she noticed how obviously she'd been staring. Rick was aware of that fact and was actually staring back! She quickly stood and left with Cassandra, heading up the stairs and into their friend's room. They had both been to Mr. Al-Walid's house before to visit Audrey, but neither of them had ever been in her room in the four years they had known her.

* * *

Abu's house was of fair size, each room having enough space for plenty of free movement even with furniture. Taking place of where a small shrine would be in every other room was a workout bench-machine, several dumbbell and barbell weights, and a mat. When the girls entered the room, they found Audrey standing on the large mat and going through some sort of kata with a shiv. Her movements were slow save for the thrusts and swipes, which were more to expel the angry energy than for practice. They moved to sit on her bed, watching her move. They noticed her eyes were closed, but neither doubted their presence was missed.

Jack's mind was a tidal wave of rage, but she fought back the animal with these exercises. Her senses picked up two people entering her territory and the animal inside her growled, but she frowned and ignored it. She knew who it was and had figured they would come up for some answers. Granted, everything would be highly edited, but the girls had been good to her in her time here. In five years, she hadn't let anyone know much of anything about her. Did she purposefully let things slip just so she could talk about it? She hated the idea that she would need anyone but Riddick's and Imam's advising words or listening ears. Maybe it was because she wanted someone to know; someone outside of the 'family' of the Holy Man, the Convict, and the Girl.

Lajjun and Ziza just sort of slid in with Imam, but where did that leave Rachel and Cassandra?

"Audrey...?" Rachel asked, quietly. Jack knew there was a steel determination behind her quiet and, often, easily flustered persona.

Jack cut to the chase, not bothering to halt her exercise, "What do you wanna know?"

Rachel was quick with a question, "Why did you get angry when we asked you why they call you Jack?"

The redhead knew Cassie would have just gone in for the kill, but felt this one needed tact. Cassandra was perceptive, but had problems with subtlety concerning other people's feelings.

"You don't waste time. Good, I hate dancing around issues. I think you know Imam's my legal guardian, not my father."

"Uh, yeah," Cassie said, watching the girl methodically turned, cut, and stabbed the air. She hadn't looked at them yet, but the blonde was sure she was listening, "We kinda gathered that."

"Officially, I'm adopted as his daughter," Jack said, "Don't think that's quite an accurate description of the relation, but it keeps the system happy.

"Parents are dead; an accident of some sort while they were on the job. I got passed off to my Aunt and Uncle. I waited three weeks before bailing. Spent the next two years on Daedalus Station."

Daedalus Station. It was a labyrinth of slums and more or less an underworld cesspool on its lower levels. If you wanted to disappear from someone, it was the perfect place to do it. Unfortunately, if you weren't careful, you could disappear from everyone--permanently. Cassandra and Rachel looked at her in surprise, they had an idea of how much a dive that place was, but they didn't really know. Jack wasn't inclined to inform them.

"Why did you run away?" Cassie asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jack fought back another wave of rage and focused on answering and keeping her movements fluent. They were over far too quickly as the form ended. She sat down with her legs crossed in a meditative position. A flicker of movement drew the other girls' eyes to her hand, but the shiv was no longer there. After a moment, she blinked and sighed. Imam didn't want her to bring blades to the table. She reached behind her and pulled the shiv from her belt, where it was hidden by her blouse that was never tucked in (much to the chagrin of her school instructors strict on dress code).

She walked over to the bed, still thinking over the answer. The young pick-pocketing girl of Daedalus didn't want to give too much away. On the other hand, she promised she would give them some answers. After she slipped the blade under her pillow, she crawled into the middle of the bed and sat with the girls. The absurd thought came to her that this was how she envisioned a sleep over to be were it not for the negative topic matter. She flopped backward onto her pillows, a frowning grimace on her face as she glared at the ceiling.

"I wasn't about to stick around with those abusively conceited fucks," she said, ignoring Rachel's noise. She never cared to spare virgin ears... children being the exception, but childhood stopped at twelve, for her. "On Daedalus, you do what you gotta do to survive. Nobody's gonna give you UDs or a free meal. So either you work for it, scavenge for it, or steal for it. Picking pockets isn't easy there. If you get caught making a pull, you can end up slaved out, dead, or both... or at least with a four-inch reminder on your hip to be more careful. The people that were in the most danger were children and women. Your vulnerability doubles if you're both. So I decided Jack was safer than I was."

"So... you changed your name from Audrey to Jack?" the taller girl asked.

Jack wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Audrey was actually Imam's suggestion, but that wasn't important. Knight had been her chosen last name, her name she registered with the system. They'd been gracious enough to allow her to pick her own when she claimed she was an orphan and didn't know it. They didn't know and it was specifically chosen to remind her of just who she was and where she belonged. She was with the darkness--where Riddick was.

"You... lied to everyone?" Rachel asked in a voice that, soft as it was, had a slightly hurt, but mostly offended tone.

Jack raised her head to glare at the shorter girl, "I'm not lying. Look, you're lucky I'm telling you this at all. I _am_ Jack. But you can't go around nameless in the system, so we gave them a name for their records. I'm Audrey Knight, too, I guess. It doesn't really matter what name I go under, but I'll always be Jack."

Trying to placate the two girls, Cassandra moved on with the topic, "So, um, what's your real name?"

"It doesn't matter," she said venomously, her anger directed back at the ceiling, "She's _dead_. She was _weak_. She couldn't _cut it_."

There were a few moments of silence. No one really wanted to talk, but there were still more questions. They all knew that. The still-slightly tense quiet was broken by Rachel.

"So do we call you? Audrey or Jack?" she questioned.

She thought about it and answered them quite truthfully, "Audrey. You don't know Jack... probably wouldn't want to know Jack."

Another short pause and several quiet contemplations later, Cassandra thought of another question. She remembered Rick's somewhat lacking explanation of how the two met. The tall blonde also remembered the withering glare Rick received from Audrey, proving the girl didn't like his explanation. With that knowledge, she assumed Audrey would give her a better explanation.

"Can you tell us how you and Rick met each other?" she said, trying not to sound prying, but the way Rachel leaned forward a bit defeated the purpose.

Neither expected the mirthless laugh that escaped her. They had heard her laugh before, but not this one. It sounded listless and disparaging. Jack's head fell back against the pillow and she closed her eyes.

"Well, I remember feeling like I would be better off dead, which is kind of ironic... Anyway, I first saw Rick getting on board some ship on its way to New Mecca. I was heading for Taurus 3. Used the last of my UDs to get on that ship. Came out of cryo--_not_ on Taurus 3, had a few brushes with death, and decided I'd rather live than die like that."

She paused, reflecting on the horrible deaths she had (and hadn't) witnessed on that God-forsaken planet. Jack gave a melancholy sigh and continued, "Rick, Imam, and I survived and I decided I'd always choose life over death."

"What... what happened?" Rachel asked, hesitant in asking; she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

In her mind, clicks and whoops sounded along with the leather sound of flapping wings. Claws and jaws full of fangs... the carnivorous darkness swooped and darted, descending up on her. Jack's eyes snapped open. She sat up and pulled her legs to her chest and hugged them. Dinner would be ready anytime and the questions were steering towards the ones she couldn't answer truthfully.

She rested her chin on her knees, "I'm not going to tell you. Neither will the Holy Man or Rick, so don't ask them."

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Hello, everyone. Welcome to my story. This is the first chapter of a long story; I hope you enjoyed it and will enjoy future chapters! There was a time when I thought I introduced Riddick too early, but I feel it flows much better to start here.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	2. 2: The Animal Inside

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 2: The Animal Inside_

Riddick smelled something. It was _good_. It reminded him that he'd been eating from a sub-par food-prep machine, after the jobs began to dry up, his rations... This would be a welcome change. The cargo he'd just hauled in would be immediately put toward a worthy food-prep machine and imperishable food. Following his nose, he came to the kitchen. In there, he found a tall, dark-skinned woman, undoubtedly Lajjun.

"What's good in here?" he asked, leaning in the doorway watching the woman go about the room like a pixie. He immediately pegged her as a housewife.

"Besides me?" she said with a slight smile, "Well, you'll have to find out with the rest of the family, Mr. Riddick."

'_Well, I suppose I don't need to introduce myself... Not quite what I expected._' he thought, and then said, "Okay, think I can show some restraint."

Her smile seemed to fade as she went about grabbing some carrots and lying one on a cutting board, "I would appreciate that, 'Rick.' I will be informing the school tomorrow that Jack is enrolling in some self-defense classes, but I shouldn't like to see her injured badly in these sessions. While Jack may not mind the cuts and bruises, they are not easily explained to the school and would draw unwanted attention. I would also appreciate it if you would not influence our daughter. She is very impressionable-"

She raised the knife up and it came down through the carrot near its base and onto the board with a harsh 'thwack' sound. Lajjun's eyes slid toward Riddick. He raised an eyebrow.

"-and I would not like to see her hurt while trying to emulate someone."

'_Okay, that was clear enough,_' he acknowledged with some slight amusement while giving her a nod.

"Dinner is almost ready. Please retrieve Jack and her friends," Lajjun said, seemingly perfectly at peace with a convicted murderer in her house. He realized that Jack was most likely the reason for that.

Without further word, Riddick turned and headed toward the stairs. Turning to the left at the top of the steps, he easily followed the sound to a door. He could hear Jack talking quietly with Rachel and Cassandra. He waited until there was a lull in the current conversation, obviously about that planet in M-344/G. Jack hadn't mentioned the name of the ship, that planet, or any names. The convict opened the door.

"Holy Man's wife says dinner's almost ready."

Jack gave Riddick a petulant stare, "The 'Holy Man's wife' has a name, Rick." She changed topics as she realized something. "Oh, I forgot," she said, and then reached under her bed and tossed her shiv to him, "Imam doesn't allow me to have shivs at the table. So I figured if _I_ couldn't have it at the table..."

Riddick had to smirk at her circumvention of Imam's rules. He slid the shiv away fluidly, resting it beside the other he kept resting as a comfortable weight against his back. There was a backup in his boot, which moved the tally up to three.

The four of them headed downstairs and to the dining room. Lajjun walked in from the back door and through the kitchen, picking up a pot on the way. As she set it down, the back door burst open again and something came running through.

In a blink, there was a shiv in Riddick's hand and his entire frame became a coiled spring. Cassandra and Rachel stilled, startled by the lightning-fast reaction of the man. Jack's hand was quick to reach up and rest on her shoulder, gaining his attention. She stared at those goggles and Riddick slipped the blade away. None of Imam's family noticed it since it had been hidden from their angle of vision.

Ziza came barreling through the kitchen and plopped down in a chair at the table that could seat eight. Audrey passed Rick and sat down across from the eight-year-old girl. Without missing a beat, the large man sat down next to Audrey, to the right of Imam. The Holy Man sat at the head of the table. Across from Riddick, Lajjun took her seat. Cassandra sat down next to Audrey and Rachel next to Ziza.

Rick was introduced to Ziza at that point, who seemed to develop something akin to hero worship as only a child can. He was going to have to figure out how this kept happening and stop it. It reminded him of Jack, though Jack hadn't seen him through the distorted glass of innocence as this girl was, right now. Sighing, he resigned himself to it while he waited for Imam.

First there was prayer, which both Rick and Audrey had enough respect to remain quiet. After prayer, there was quiet conversation as they ate. There was soup, bread, and a taco-like wrap served with ice water and some warm tea. Ziza's eyes had locked on Rick and were not moving. The convict was aware of this and felt his tension mounting. Kid was about to say something that would make a mouse fart audible.

He took a slow sip of water, his eyes likewise fixed on the girl from behind his goggles. Moments later, he set the glass down. He could see it in her eyes half a second before her mouth opened.

"Did you really kill monsters? The ones that were gonna hurt my father?" the little girl asked.

Jack began coughing as she choked on her tea. Silverware ceased its movement. All eyes fixed on Riddick and her mind shouted at her to do something, but it wasn't providing any suggestions on just _what_ it was she should do.

Imam looked a bit shaken and apologetic as he tried to diffuse the sudden tension, "Such are our bedtime stories..."

Riddick was silent, as was everyone else, but Ziza was still watching him and wanted an answer. She wasn't picking up on the 'bad idea' signal that radiated throughout the table.

The large man inhaled softly, opening his mouth, "Not enough."

This seemed to be enough for Ziza and everyone slowly went back to eating. Rick's face was passive, blank, but he went about his meal. Jack knew what was bothering him. It ate away at what was left of his soul every time it was mentioned. She leaned over to Riddick, speaking softly. Cassie could just barely make it out as she slowly went back to her food.

"Fry wasn't your fault. She made that decision," she whispered.

"Not for me," he quietly rumbled back.

"For all of us," she insisted, "Even if she made it, we wouldn't have made it without you. The psycho-bitch and her lap dog would have finished what those things started."

He looked ready to argue back, but the adamant look she gave him made Riddick drop it and return to his meal. That was something the convict had forgotten about in the five years he had been away: Jack's reasoning against his thoughts... not to mention the freaky way she could see through his mask of indifference even with his goggles on. She would combat his dark thoughts with her overwhelming faith in him and what he could be.

Cassandra pretended she heard nothing. Being in this man's presence for less than two hours, she learned more about Audrey than she had in four years. Their bond was obvious and it visibly brought out something in Audrey; a spark in her eye and a liveliness that was otherwise hidden behind her quiet nature. The girl had smiled more times in a day than she had this year. Until today, Cassie never realized just how much of a dead shell Audrey seemed. She decided to revise her opinion of Rick a little. He might have been incredibly dangerous, as the little "not a fight" showed earlier, but he made her friend so much happier.

She wondered who Fry was... and what "monsters" it was that Rick had killed.

* * *

After dinner, the group of them sat in the living room talking while Audrey, Rachel, and Cassandra did their homework while half-listening to the conversation. None of them could make out just what Imam or Rick was saying to each other, but Audrey picked up on the tension. It wasn't obvious to anyone unless they knew Rick reasonably well, but he was clearly displeased. The way his growling tone lost difference and pitch, becoming monotone and quietly intense. She remembered it when he'd been with one of Imam's boys, when he had told them not to stop burning.

"...her restless...will stay if..." Imam was saying.

"...'ll survive...can't. It's too...needs to live a..." Rick replied.

These bits and pieces weren't distinctive, but she could guess at the topic. Jack glared at the two of them. They were discussing her, again. They had talked this exact same way just before Riddick left her the first time.

'_No_.'

He wasn't going to leave her again! Her eyes turned back to the com-pad; articles on the Furya Massacre and comparisons she was making to the ancient Holocaust during the Second World War on Old Earth stared back at her. She looked at them unseeingly, her body tensing again.

"Audrey?" Rachel asked, noticing how the girl's quiet anger returned. What had angered her, now?

The com-pad's stylus she was using crunched in her fist. Rachel jerked slightly and Cassie shifted uncomfortably.

"_Audrey_," the blonde said tersely.

Jack's gaze slammed upward to stare at her friends, a slightly startled look on her face as if she didn't realize what happened. Her fist slowly unclenched from the stylus. As she pried her fingers open, the stylus dropped; several tiny shards of plastic and metal remained stuck in her palm, but nothing bled yet. They probably would when she pulled them out. She now had the attention Riddick and Imam, who had just become aware that Jack had been listening to them. The convict watched as her eyes turned from her friends back to him.

Jack looked at those goggles for a moment, but couldn't hold the stare for long. She couldn't look at him when she thought about him leaving. Again. She stood up and lamely excused herself to her room before moving silently and a bit hastily up the stairs.

"Jack," Imam called out, but she didn't listen. The door to her room shut a little forcefully.

"We'll have to work on that temper of hers," the bald man reaffirmed, whether to himself or to someone else was anyone's guess.

He stood up and walked out of the kitchen, taking a right to go up the stairs. The girls got up from the living room and moved to follow him up the steps. They reached Audrey's room on his heels and the door swung open only to reveal a flutter of hair outside the window before she was gone. Something suspiciously like a growl, a decidedly frustrated one, issued from Rick's throat. Without sparing the room a second glance, he stalked in and toward the window. He put a boot on the ledge and paused shortly, turning to face the girls.

"Tell Imam she'll be back in an hour."

Rachel hazarded to question him, "What if... what if she wants to stay out?"

"...She'll be back in an hour," he repeated firmly.

And then he dropped down to the ground outside Audrey's window. Imam's steps came up behind them and he looked into the empty room. He tiredly exhaled.

"Where have Jack and Rick gone?"

Now on the spot, Cassie opened her mouth silently for a few seconds before responding...

* * *

On a rooftop of a shop almost a block away, two people--a girl sitting close to the edge and a man standing a few feet behind her--talked quietly while the sun's tip was swallowed into a glowing horizon.

"Bought you an hour."

"I'd rather you have used your UDs to buy yourself more time."

He sighed, slipping off his goggles as the line between the heavens and Helion shimmered softly. He took a couple steps to stand next to her instead of behind her. Riddick's voice was even as he stated the fact he knew Jack didn't want to hear.

"I told you I would be staying until-"

Jack cut him off, "Until you leave again. I waited five years to see you again, how long will it be next time? Ten? Fifteen? How do I know you'll be able to make it back? How do I know some asshole merc won't get lucky and you'll be..."

She trailed off, unable to say the horrid word that would cement itself... make itself _real_ if she said it. Riddick dead. The very thought terrified her beyond anything that had happened to her in her young life thus far.

"You know I can't stay."

Jack didn't reply. She didn't want Riddick to stay. The girl wanted to go with the convict. She knew he would never accept that and probably didn't understand it. The brown-haired street rat stared out at the darkness that enveloped the world as the separation between the skies and the horizon faded. Sure, it was dangerous, but she knew that. Everyone thought she was so blind to the fact that, at any given moment, someone--even Riddick--could die; snap, just like _that_. So... if Jack had any choice, any choice at all, in her death, she wanted it to be with Riddick. No one understood, not even him, and that hurt. She hugged her legs tighter to her chest.

After night had truly set in, Riddick announced that it was time to head back. Jack understood that it wasn't an invitation; they were going back whether she wanted to or not. But the girl had taken the time to get herself in order and felt more in control.

Riddick turned around, facing the way they came, "We're gonna start meditation before every spar. You need more control and restraint."

As they jumped across the rooftops toward the Al-Walid residence like a pair of running wolves, Jack couldn't help but feel like _this_ was how it was supposed to be...

* * *

The thump and clop of feet on the roof startled Cassandra and Rachel until Audrey's form fell down and hung from the roof ledge, then swung inside the room through the open window, and landed quietly. Crouched as she was, her eyes trailed over them like a stalking leopard for a second before something akin to recognition dawned in her eyes and her coiled stance rose into a relaxed upright state. Shortly following her, Rick dropped into the room the same way. Cassie observed how alike they moved, that same wild look they shared upon returning. It was as if they were only pretending to be human--that, as soon as they were in the presence of others, they put on their civilized masks. Wolves in human skin.

"Finish your homework and get some rest, Jack. We start tomorrow--with meditation," Riddick said before he walked out the door. Jack nodded her understanding. Imam met him as he came out and the two moved downstairs, speaking quietly.

Jack retrieved another stylus and sat down to complete the semi-circle that Cassie and Rachel had formed. They had taken her things to her room when they went up to talk to her before dinner. She finished her research, deciding to write the paper tomorrow. It was due in two days, which was plenty of time for her.

The pick-pocketing girl stood up and went to her dresser, where she pulled out a shelf and grabbed a lacquered box. It appeared to be a jewelry box, but she set it on the dresser and opened it to reveal several shivs--her works. She pulled out a curving piece of metal that had a clear and defined shape. This one was her latest and had a wicked curve to it and smooth grip that was just perfect! It was almost done and only needed sharpening. She only had a few tools for it, just to shape it and file it; these were also very primitive in make... Things you could find almost anywhere on any planet. It was something Riddick had taught her while on the jumper for Helion Prime five years ago. She sat back down with the tools and worked on them.

Helion Prime had thirty-hour days. She had about an hour and a half before she would go to bed. Her friends would most likely stay half an hour or an hour more. The sounds of metal on rough metal grated through the room as she worked. Jack lost herself in the rhythmic motion and noise.

"Audrey?"

"Hm?"

Audrey turned her eyes up to Cassie, pausing the filing. By now, Rachel and Cassandra had become somewhat accustomed to the odd things that their friend could do. The fact that she had knives had somewhat lessened the effect of watching her _make_ one. Just a little bit.

"Why do you do this?"

Audrey was a strange creature, Rachel thought as she saw the blank expression upon the other girl's face. She was strong and witty, far more intelligent than she let on. Their taciturn friend was also wise in the ways of the darker sides of life, a life she lived and understood intimately; unsheltered. And yet sometimes simple things seemed outside her scope of understanding.

"These things," Cassandra motioned broadly, "You make and carry knives, you work out and never take time for things like school dances, and you can fight. I understand, at least a little bit, that you've had a hard life so far. But don't you feel safe here? Why do you need to do these things?"

The memory of earlier that day, just after Rick and Audrey had fought, came to mind. Audrey was hurt and only after Rachel had pointed it out did she respond. And even then, she was more worried about the blood on her shirt than the wound itself. The redhead saw these gaps in understanding; how they would puzzle her and she would puzzle them. But even with what they knew of Audrey, neither she nor Cassie could figure out the introvert. Rick, however, seemed to know her better than herself... and Audrey seemed to come out of her shell around him.

Rachel wondered, '_Is Audrey coming out of her shell around Rick, or is Jack coming out of the Audrey-shell around Rick?_'

Some people might have been offended by Cassie's question. The girl was trying to ask it as lightly as possible, so it didn't sound accusatory. Thankfully, Audrey understood the blonde's blunt nature and curiosity.

Jack's head dropped down, her dark, jade eyes focusing back on the shiv. She went back to shaping and honing the edge of the blade, "That's... That's not an easy thing to explain... Things were simpler where I was growing up. Sure, there was a lot of complex shit about what to do and when... but when it came right down to it, it was simple. You do what you need to do in order to survive. You make sure your ass is covered and make damn sure you're prepared. If you look weak, you're a target to be taken advantage of because you can't do anything about it... If you look too strong, you're a target to be taken out because you're too dangerous or someone wants to take your place.

"That's a universal thing. But here, where it's '_safe_,' there's so much more people worry about. Instead of wondering how to find the next meal or who might be a threat, you're wondering where you want to eat, what clothes you want to buy, who you want to date...

"Sometimes I wish it were back the way it was, you know? So I wouldn't have to think about all that. Everything would be so simple and I wouldn't need to worry what people think about how I look or what I do in my free time. Rid... Rick's... He's part of that. Now that he's back, I have a taste of that simplicity. Everything's clear-cut and I know what I'm doing.

"When I train, make shivs, or when I fight someone or spar with Rick, it makes things here easier to handle."

She then realized that she'd been rambling quite a bit, just letting out her thoughts as she worked out the shiv into proper shape. Audrey paused, falling silent, and then traced a finger down the curving flat of the blade.

"You said that you're safer with him than anyone else," Rachel began, startling Audrey out of her thoughts, "If he's... a part of all that, then how does that make you safe?"

"And why are his eyes shined?" asked Cassie.

Audrey's eyes went dull, but there was stubborn intensity in them. Her momentary silence told them all they needed: she wasn't going to answer. Jack's thoughts flipped to when she'd asked about Riddick's eyes... back on that God-forsaken planet. What could she tell them? Obviously not what he had told her!

"Um..." she started, but it was all she could manage.

"A man of mystery, huh?" Cassandra said, "Is he ex-military? A lot of ex-military take to the shipping lanes after their tour of duty's up... It's what my uncle did."

Audrey answered a bit ambiguously, "...Sort of."

"Sort of military? How does that work?" the blonde asked as she arched an eyebrow, "I mean, unless he's with a guild of mercenaries-"

The half-finished shiv was jammed into a floorboard with a heavy thump and made the girls jump. Jack's hand still gripped the hilt, knuckles white and green fire in here eyes.

"He's not a merc!" she growled, "He would never, _ever_ sign on with-"

The sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall sounded, but Jack was far too intent on making her point to hear as Riddick came in the room. He took one look at Jack and the shiv, and then sighed. The temper had to go.

"What's this about?" he asked. The girl ignored him.

"-worthless, shit-eating mercs! He'd die before-"

"What mercs," Riddick demanded.

Cassandra sat wide-eyed while Rachel looked back and forth between Audrey and Rick without a clue for what to do about this latest development. Rachel was taking everything in and was using her eyes to silently plead with Rick to do something. They didn't know mercenaries would be a particular volatile topic for her and now the redhead was wondering if the bald man could stem this eruption.

Riddick glared at Rachel, who was apparently the only one paying him any sort of attention, "What. Mercs."

Rachel shook her head; she had no idea.

Riddick's brows knit together, '_Shit._'

Rachel watched as the goggled giant of a man moved toward Audrey and crouched down behind her. Audrey was still ranting about how all mercs were 'useless sacks of shit' and how they couldn't be trusted. Somehow, she didn't think this would end well...

"Jack," he barked, wanting her to quiet. But he knew this would likely get a bad response. Something like-

The blade was pulled from the floor and came swinging around at his temple. Cassie turned her head away, not wanting to see what might happen. Rachel gasped and stifled a scream by clamping her hands over her mouth. Riddick caught her wrist in one of his massive palms, stopping the shiv before it came anywhere close to his head. He held her arm there while her muscles strained and her hand shook.

Cassandra turned slightly to peek out of the eyes she had tightly shut, seeing both of them still alive. She was still jumpy and bounced in place when Rick's voice filled the air again.

"The fuck's gotten into you, Jack?" he said tersely, finally getting her attention.

Her eyes widened and her fingers lifelessly fell open, dropping the blade in the now silent room. She'd almost stabbed him! If he hadn't been prepared... If he wasn't so fast... If it were someone else... Jack felt a chill, a cold sweat break out over her. She didn't want to be here. Riddick must have understood and he jerked his head toward the door.

"Why don't you go see Imam. Drink some of that nerve-relaxing shit."

"It's called chamomile," she muttered as she stood.

"Whatever. Just get yourself calmed down. We'll talk later."

With barely a nod, she silently headed for the door. She paused in the door jamb to turn around; the girl still looked shaken, "You're not like Johns. Not at all."

And then she was gone, but Rick's head had whipped toward the door. He quickly turned back to them and the look on his goggled face was, to put it lightly, unpleasant.

"What the fuck was that about?" he growled.

'_What brought that up and just how much did Jack spill?_' Riddick thought, '_Fuck, with her temper she's going to lead every merc in a five system radius to me if she can't control her goddamn mouth..._'

His abrupt abrasiveness seemed to make them clam up in fear and he sighed. 'Rick' sat down in front of them. Then, calmer than he felt, he tried again, "Okay... let's start from the beginning."

"She just... lost it," said Rachel, "We were talking about... um..."

"About?" Riddick pried impatiently.

"Uh, you... And we wanted to know if you were ex-military or something. But she was really vague about it, so I thought maybe you were a mercenary-"

"Hm," Riddick could not help the small, huffing, half-chuckle at that.

"And that's when she started ranting about them," Cassie filled in, "Then she-"

* * *

"-almost ghosted him right there," she said, her hands trembling enough to make the chamomile slosh around in the cup.

"But you did not," Imam said, "And from what I understand, Mr. Riddick is going be helping you with that."

"The reason he's not dead is because he's so strong and fast... If it had been you or Lajjun or Ziza..." Her eyes widened slightly as she remembered, "Ziza! Shit, did I wake her? Did she hear me?"

"All will be fine, I am sure. Mr. Riddick has not let us down, yet."

She nursed her cup while she sat at the table, the low light of the candles making the setting feel more confidential in the dark than with the overhead light on. Jack couldn't help but shudder as a thought ran through her mind.

"It's almost as if _she_ was in control again."

* * *

"-and some subjects are sore spots for her."

"One of those _sore spots_ almost got you killed," Cassandra said to the bald man, looking at him in disbelief over his unconcerned attitude.

Riddick chuckled and shook his head, "Jack didn't come anywhere close to killing me."

"How can you laugh about that?" Rachel asked, "Ever since you showed up, she's been volatile. I don't know what to say around her anymore; if she's going to attack anyone who talks about something she doesn't like..."

"I don't know what's gotten into her, but I'm gonna put a stop to that temper. You don't worry about that." He hated doing damage control like this, it always seemed as though he said the wrong thing. Riddick wasn't the comforting type and he never had been. "And you'll have to accept that you don't know or understand everything about her. So it's best to not set her off-"

"How can we if no one will tell us what makes her angry?" Cassandra asked, crossing her arms and giving the bald man a glare she hoped held the weight she didn't feel. Rick made her uneasy and it was hard to be confident in his imposing aura.

"Can't do that. I don't know, either. There are some things about Jack no one will ever know."

Rachel sighed. If Audrey was so complex that even her closest confidants did not know much about her...

The redhead asked, "Then how will we know what not to bring up?"

"There are a few topics to stay away from," Rick said, a thoughtful frown crossing his features as he recalled a couple, "First, anything dealing with mercs. She hates them... maybe more than I do. Second, her past is something she doesn't talk about a lot with anyone; I know bits and pieces, but there will always be huge gaps."

The two girls nodded; the recap of her life had been spotty at best. They didn't know what her parents were like, what planet or station she was born on, or anything that might seem common to mention. Audrey was always carefully vague.

"Well, I was going to ask her about him, but since it's a bad topic for her... I'll ask you," Cassandra said as a lead-in to her question.

Riddick did not like how Cassandra sounded when she said that...

* * *

"Who do you mean?" Imam asked, looking at her oddly. Jack's past was almost as spotty as Riddick's; she had many secrets and while Imam held a great deal of them, he knew that there were many, many more still within her mind. This was the first he had ever heard this particular piece.

The young woman shook her head, as if she did not want to speak of it. Truthfully, she didn't, but she needed to get it off her chest before it smothered her. It was always so hard to talk about her past; not because she felt overly emotional about it, but because she had tried so hard to shove it into some far corner or her mind. Sometimes she really did forget them until something triggered a memory.

Imam had told her that what she was doing was repressing memories. Jack had nodded at the time and said she was "damn good at it, too." She'd been able to block things off like that for a while. The skill worried Imam--she supposed what just happened could partly be why.

"_Her_. The one before Jack. It was like she was in control."

"Before J-" he began, baffled. Then he realized what she meant, "You mean Deir-"

"_Don't_... say her name. I buried her. I can't let anyone dig her up. I _won't_," Jack said adamantly with a hint of trepidation.

It bothered him--greatly--how Jack would refer to herself in the third person, in a sense. They'd only barely scratched the surface of who Deirdre was; how she ran away to Daedalus Station and became Jack. Only Jack knew (but had forcefully forgotten) most of who and what Deirdre had been.

Imam gave a sigh and nodded his acquiescence, putting away the name. But he was not about to drop the topic. She still needed to talk this out.

"Why did it feel like she was in control?"

"I don't know... She just- She was always emotional and scared--jumpy, y'know? And _angry_. After what happened, she was always like that... It was like her light had been destroyed. And she _couldn't_ survive in the dark--I knew it. I had to protect us; I couldn't let it end there. So when she broke down, Jack was there," she stared into her cup and took another sip of it, "Jack picked up the slack and made sure we survived Daedalus."

Imam shifted uncomfortably, listening to her bounce her point of view around several times. Jack confused him greatly when it came to her past. He was somewhat used to this by now, even if it made him worry for her every time they spoke of her past. He went on as normally as possible. If he pointed out that she was Deirdre, she would go stone silent on him for days, maybe weeks. The holy man wasn't about to make that mistake again.

"What destroyed her light?" he inquired softly.

"Her parents died... and the system shipped her off to her asshole relatives who wanted nothing to do with her. Treated her like shit. There was still too much of _her_ left and I couldn't stay there and let her be crushed under them. So I bailed off to Daedalus... I gave us a new name there and the rest, as you know, is history."

Jack finished with a little flourish of her hands. He hadn't learned anything new... Imam knew her parents had died, knew about her mentally abusive aunt and uncle, and her subsequent flight to Daedalus. It seemed as though they had derailed from the original topic... Jack had a habit of doing that.

"Is there something else bothering you?"

For a long time, the teen was silent before she took a deep breath. After polishing her cup of chamomile, she didn't get a refill. Letting out that breath, she began, "My friends thought Riddick was a merc... And it just made me start thinking-"

* * *

"About 'Johns.' She mentioned him--is he a mercenary? I mean, she obviously hates mercenaries and before she left, she mentioned him..."

'Rick' mentally cursed a blue streak. The girl was too attentive. Cassandra was her name, he remembered. He frowned just a tad more, but tried to think of a way to explain it. If Riddick gave them an answer, he hoped it would dissuade them from trying to investigate because he said nothing.

"You remember when she told you about our adventure on the way to Helion?" he asked, his face slowly forming a blank mask of indifference. No one liked to talk about this and he was no exception.

But he didn't doubt that if these girls didn't have at least part of the picture, they would go looking for their own answers. He could not have that happening--for everyone's sake.

"She said you, Mr. Al-Walid, and her were the only ones that made it... That where you supposedly 'fought monsters?'" Cassie guessed with a raised brow.

He went silent, thinking for a second or two thinking about that... An entire ship and only three people came out of it. The end of Cassie's question made Riddick scowled for a moment and the blonde blanched.

"Smart girl," he said in a low tone. His mask drew itself up and he replied evenly, "Yeah, it was. That planet was full of nasty things... There were only a few of us to start with, before those animals started taking us for dinner-"

"_Dinner_?" Rachel said, looking pale.

"Yeah. Those 'monsters' were picking us off one by one from the start. And Johns, a merc, came up with a solution while we were making a pointless run for an emergency skiff. We were all gonna die trying to make it there, out in the open... so he wanted to play a little _triage_ as he called it."

"Triage," Cassie repeated in a tone that suggested she didn't like where this was going.

"Johns decided that there was no way all six of us would make it... but maybe five could and we'd only have to lose one," Riddick said.

He leaned forward and picked up the mostly finished shiv Jack had dropped. Rachel watched him inspect it quietly. She looked decidedly green, "He was going to _let_ someone get eaten by one of the animals?"

"Nope. The sick fuck wanted to ghost one of us and drag that one behind the rest of us like bait to keep the things occupied with it while we made a clean escape," he said in a disgusted tone.

Cassie was quiet, but not faring much better than Rachel was, "Which one of you did he-"

"You're a smart girl, Cassie," he replied.

"Audrey," she exclaimed in a sickly whisper.

Rachel got up and left for the bathroom to retch, even though it was dry. The stress of the evening just wound her stomach a little too tight and her rather vivid imagination had been providing her a steady stream of visuals ever since she'd met Rick. Meanwhile, Cassandra tired to reign back her thoughts and feelings to think about it.

"Obviously, he didn't make it--and Jack's here, so he also didn't get his way. What happened to him?"

Riddick's voice flat and his face seemed made of stone, "Needed a bigger piece of bait."

Cassandra nodded slightly. She had a fair idea what happened--Rick probably killed him and the girl couldn't really blame him. It was strange, conflicting feeling that she was glad he died. Cassie had never felt that way about someone before...

* * *

"And I'm glad he ghosted him, but..." her mouth was completely willing to go on, but her mind instinctively locked her lips tightly together. She didn't want to think about it, but she felt the need to talk about it. The confliction was enough to keep her from plowing on ahead.

"But?"

From having several of these talks in the past, Imam calmly coaxed her through it. Riddick had spoken, if only sparsely, of the animal side. That wild side was present in Jack and he knew this. Sometimes, however, it did feel like he was coaxing some timid, skittish wolf cub closer.

"... But sometimes I wonder why he didn't. I mean, as spiked as the hyped fuck was, the logic was sound, you know? I was bleeding and maybe that would have kept them off everyone else. It would have been easier to-to just..."

"Jack, look at me," the holy man paused, waiting for the pools of jade to turn up, "It may have been an easier choice, but also the wrong one. Mr. Riddick realized that, as well. Besides," he said with a slight smile, "when has Mr. Riddick made anything easy?"

Jack smiled a bit.

* * *

Rachel and Cassandra were led out, assured by Rick that Audrey would be at school tomorrow. That night, none of them slept well. When morning was upon them, the day began whether or not their inner troubles were prepared. Rachel and Cassandra were walking down the road when Audrey came up beside them.

"'Morning," she said, one hand on the strap of her book bag, the other unconsciously running over the tooth on her necklace. There was an awkward silence and she finally decided to forge onward, "I'm sorry about last night."

In spite of the bruises and two small cuts on her face, she looked as if nothing odd had happened yesterday. To Rachel, it was as if that 'Jack' personality that had been revealed to them was tucked carefully away back into the empty shell of a personality called Audrey. It bothered her to see how proficient Audrey truly was at hiding things.

"It's okay, Audrey. Are you feeling okay?" Cassandra asked.

"Yeah. Rick and I talked a bit last night after you left and that meditation stuff he had me go through this morning helped. ... I'm sorry about all the drama. I hadn't seen him in five years and I guess I was kind of bottled up."

"It's okay, really. We understand--as long as you're doing better," replied the blonde.

Rachel was quiet, not that this was unusual, but it seemed more of a contemplative silence. She glanced to her friend, who was idly rubbing the tooth on the necklace. It was a habit that often made Rachel wonder about that tooth. Eventually, she decided to chance it.

The redhead asked quietly, her voice gaining momentum as she spilled the question, "Is that from one of those monsters? From that planet?"

Audrey visibly jerked and clutched the tooth tighter, feeling it prick into her palm. She tried to remember all that Riddick told her he said to the girls; what she could say and what she had to leave out. The girl frowned for a moment before answering.

"Yeah. One of the bastards bit him. This went clear through the boot; I'm pretty sure it didn't live long enough to debate on the wisdom of that move..."

She continued walking, her mind taking her back to that time when he had stumbled onto the ramp of the skiff... without Fry. It was one of the few times she'd seen a display of pure, unfiltered emotion on his face. It didn't last long, of course; that mask slammed up moments later and he was all business, getting them off that Hell once and for all. Jack was pretty sure she was still in shock at that time.

'_Tell 'em Riddick's dead... He died somewhere on that planet._'

Audrey's head jerked up from staring at the tooth, "Huh?"

Rachel sighed, knowing her friend had been spacing, and repeated herself, "So he... really killed monsters? He was serious last night?"

A small smile lit her face when she nodded. She looked up at the bright sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a moment, "He can kill anything..."

Cassandra stared at her; Audrey's smile didn't leave for quite a while. Bruised, a fat lip, and smiling. Rick's return must have had a great impact on her... Before yesterday, she could count on a hand how many times Audrey smiled. And now, she was still smiling. Actually... Cassandra observed Audrey for a moment longer before her suspicion crystallized into conviction.

Her eyes went wide as she "Oh, my _God_... You have a crush on him!"

Audrey's head whipped down from the sky and to Cassandra. Rachel had a smirk on her face and Cassandra was laughing at her expression. Her eyes looked fit to fall out of their sockets and her face was about to glow from how red it was turning. Her jaw dropped and, when she tried to speak, her voice squeaked.

"_What_? No! Why the-... Where did you come up with that idea?"

Cassie shrugged in an unconvinced, 'if you say so' gesture, "Just the way you talk about him sometimes."

"It's not like that. He saved me... physically and mentally, I guess. I was a runaway about to be killed on some God-forsaken rock. He kept me alive and found me a home. I saw that lighter side of him--the one everyone says doesn't exist. It does, it's just in the dark. I care about him and worry about him when no one else will."

The blonde blinked and frowned slightly, "I'm... sorry. I didn't know, I just thought-"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Audrey said, waving it away. The brunette went quiet again, her mind wandering, '_Although..._'

"Audrey," Cassie said in a devious, sing-song tone.

Nothing good ever came from it, and Audrey was wary, "_What_?"

"You're blushing again... Wonder what _you're_ thinking about."

"...Shut up."

Rachel and Cassandra were both laughing, now.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Chapter 2... I enjoyed writing these scenes. A bit of foreshadowing, a bit of insight into the characters I'm using, both canon and my own... It was all around fun. Hope you liked it. Lots more to come!

* * *

Review and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	3. 3: School Skirmish

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 3: School Skirmish_

Lunch time rolled around and passed. The moment Audrey had passed through the doors, not a word of last night seemed to have ever taken place. Some people gave her injuries a curious stare, but no one was willing to ask about it. While Audrey wasn't a black sheep or pariah, most people have given up trying to get past her walls.

So it was only Rachel and Cassandra that accompanied her to the tables during the lunch hour. They ate quietly, each consumed in their own thoughts. Without the usual banter, the redhead and the blonde could almost feel the silent gap that was their friend.

Rachel gave an inward sigh, '_I guess I'll have to get used to Audrey's dual nature. Maybe she'll talk to us more after school..._'

It was during Phys. Ed. that things took a sudden and drastic change. As the girls changed into more appropriate shorts or sweats and shirts for the activities to come, Rachel caught a glimpse of glint as Audrey slipped a shiv into her boot and a second into the back of her pants. It was done so quickly and carefully that, if she hadn't been paying attention, she would have missed both entirely. She finally paused in tying her shoes to ask Audrey about it.

"Do you ever go anywhere without knives?"

"Nope," Audrey replied, "Always carry something. Anything can be a weapon, but you have to be able to get to it--fast. Sometimes there is no warning. You forget that and someone's gonna ghost your ass."

"Rick tell you that?" Cassie asked. It sounded like a quote, anyhow.

Audrey nodded.

The girls headed outside to find the rest of the girls swarming around their teacher. None of the girls seemed superbly interested in the activities or the teacher... or the class, really. So there had to be something up. Immediately, Audrey was scanning the area. There--leaning against a wall, a towering figure. Riddick. She immediately headed for him, completely bypassing her teacher.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a hushed whisper, "I thought you were keeping a low profile!"

"Sometimes the best place to hide is right out in the open."

"Ah, Ms. Knight," Mrs. Zimmerman said, "Mr. Phoebus will be taking over your... training. I've requested your self-defense lessons be taught during this period. That way there is some manner of supervision."

Mrs. Zimmerman was, like many on Helion, of tan complexion with dark hair and eyes. However, she was a bit more built than most women were; the result of a hard-worked and trained body. She was just starting to go grey. Cryo kept her quite young throughout her service, and now time was finally catching up to her.

"Mr. Phoebus, please try not to... overwork Ms. Knight."

It was clear that 'Zimmy,' as most of the class referred to her, was trying to tell 'Rick' not to hurt her. That would likely fall on deaf ears, as she noted the medical kit that was sitting beside him. When Mrs. Zimmerman turned her back to address the hordes of girls trying to ogle the large man, Jack gave him a withering stare.

"_Phoebus_?"

"_Knight_?"

"Shut up..." she groused embarrassedly.

"We'll start with meditation, just like this morning--only ten minutes, though. Then we'll move on to a warm-up spar."

Of course, in Riddick-talk, that meant working her over into near exhaustion and then pushing her even further. But Jack always wanted to push the limit--of just about anything.

The girl nodded and they sat cross-legged across from each other, closed their eyes, and slowly narrowed their thoughts down to only what was necessary; what they needed to do and what they needed to do even better. They were mentally building themselves into a fortress to block out the harshest physical exertions and the most daunting opposition. At the same time, they were also blocking out unnecessary thoughts and feelings; allowing them to keep a level mind and evaluate a situation and react accordingly. For Jack, this meant temper control. Riddick expected her potential was far greater than she knew when she was cool and collected.

Enduring a few odd stares when they did nothing but sit there, she finally felt prepped enough for another go. She had gone over her various mistakes in the last fight and had come to several conclusions. When they squared off, she felt she would last a bit longer than last time--she'd left herself open too much and she knew she could have kept herself closed off a bit better during that last flurry when he'd knocked her flat.

"Okay, first, I want to talk to you about that first move you pulled yesterday. It's a classic, but like I told you... bigger targets like me won't take much from a falling elbow at your weight. So I'm going to show you a follow up and an alternative..."

* * *

Cassie, like many of the other girls, often cast glances at the two. Now that they were up and moving, it seemed like things were going to get interesting. Rick was making some strange gestures to Audrey, who kept nodding. He knelt down and drew and invisible line with a closed fist...

* * *

"-and you drag your shiv over their throat," he pointed to two points on his neck, "Here to here. I'll warn you now that it will be messy--but if it's your life or theirs; you know the choice. Your opponent will be too winded to move if you're fast enough. And you _will_ have to be fast. So elbow, elbow, leg, shoulder, elbow, kick off, slice. Understand?"

Jack nodded, "Yeah, I can pull that off, I think. Elbow, elbow, leg, shoulder, elbow, kick off, slice."

"Right. Let's try it."

Riddick moved behind Jack and put her in a loose chokehold. Jack jammed her elbow into his ribs just enough to hurt and he loosened his grip. She snuck her foot behind his heel and pivoted. Immediately afterward, she crashed into him as hard as she could to put him off balance. As she fell, she used her elbow--just as she had before. This time, however, she raised her arms and put them on either side of his neck. Jack pushed with her legs, forcing herself into a handstand above him. She remained there for a moment before putting enough leverage to land kneeling above his head. She dragged her left hand outward.

"Slice."

"You lingered too long at the kick off. That's supposed to be fluid," he said--and how he managed to make her feel scolded while lying on his back after she effectively 'killed' him, she would never know.

"I couldn't get my momentum up enough. I think I'm missing something."

Riddick sat up and shook his head a bit, "I couldn't exactly see what you were doing. Lay down and show me how you did it."

* * *

Mrs. Zimmerman clapped and startled a few of the girls, "Pay attention! I'm not going to constantly remind you. Get to or I'll have you running laps."

Mrs. Zimmerman wasn't completely ignorant, however--she stole a glance or two herself. What she saw was Audrey Knight nearly 'decapitate' Mr. Phoebus. She was a retired lieutenant and she was used to seeing drills being run. But that maneuver was advanced--not something someone learns for their idle protection or to work out. Audrey was being prepped for the offensive, but why?

She watched as Audrey performed her dismount once again, this time from the ground. After a short handstand, she landed and Rick had her lay down again. This time, he lifted one of her legs and pointed above her head. He pulled her up slightly by the ankle of that same leg, and then pointed to the other leg. Even from this far, Zimmy could see what was going on. The girl wasn't supposed to be pausing; using both legs at once didn't get her in the right position.

She started herself out of watching the two, clearly disturbed at how she had slipped back into drill-mode, remembering how she'd honed the skills of her squads. And the fact that this was just a seventeen-year-old girl learning things she hadn't taught her soldiers that had fought and died in the Wailing Wars.

She hadn't been on the planet, herself... but the news hit her hard that her platoon was gone. She hadn't even thought about it for such a long time. She had no clue why that particular, painful event suddenly popped into her mind.

* * *

"Like that, then push off with the other leg. It's almost like a flash kick. It doesn't seem like it would be faster, but it's the same speed--just with more momentum to swing you all the way."

When she kicked with the other leg, he pulled down on the leg he was holding to provide her enough to kick over. It was a slow-motion thing, but that was the point--to train the movement into her mind.

He then lay on the ground, "Try it again, this time from the opponent--with the slice."

It felt a bit awkward to lay down on him, but she did it. Jack planted her hands on either side of his neck, kicked one leg upward, and then the other. The extra inertia sent her over his head and into a kneeling position. She pulled her arm out again.

"Slice."

"Okay. One more time from the top, then we're gonna spar. Sometime during the spar, I'm going to put you in a chokehold. It's up to you to remember this."

* * *

Rachel stared at them, not really liking what she was seeing. After the disturbing visuals she received last night about how Audrey met Rick and seeing their earlier fight, she could only imagine what Audrey was learning to do. Audrey took Rick down again and drew her arm out. She shook her head to clear the images from her head and focused on the ball working its way toward her.

* * *

"For whatever reason, if you don't have a shiv on you, put your fist on their throat. You can crush the windpipe with your weight if you do it just right. Do _not_ do that during our spars. No way to practice that with a live person--not without serious injury. Clear?"

"Clear," she said.

Riddick was keenly aware that she was in some sort of zone where she was taking in everything he said, drinking it up, and processing it. Jack's mind was a steel trap. It almost bothered him how proficient she was. She was so focused that all Hell could break loose around them that very second and she wouldn't be fazed. That did bother him, truthfully. It made him wonder why she had such an awareness and vigilance; her ability to take in all those minute details. What had made her need to develop a skill like that?

And what made her so volatile? He wasn't stupid enough to think that her temper was just naturally that explosive or just from what little he knew from her past. There was probably something hidden deep inside her mind, buried in her past that made her that way; something she had yet to tell anyone. And whatever it was resulted in this type of anger, the kind that was harbored and cultivated into rage on a hair-trigger. He put her through half an hour of meditation this morning and he could visibly see the high tension in her body slacken.

It wasn't like he could ask her, either. Riddick didn't like to talk about his past; it wasn't pleasant and it didn't much help him to rehash. Jack, however, was practically paranoid about remaining tight-lipped. He had heard her fractured speaking; how she would jump around various personas she had wielded... And, frankly, it creeped the fuck out of him.

"Alright, Jack, let's go."

That nervous energy she'd had last time wasn't with her as she sunk into a ready stance. Instead, an eager anticipation replaced it. Her animal shifted inside her and her adrenaline began to flow. In her sharpened eyes, an ember of battle fury lit.

She charged forward, running at full tilt. He prepared himself for another flurry as she had in the last fight. Jack came in low and planted her hands on the ground. Her leading leg swung out in a trip that, as she expected, he simply raised his leg to avoid altogether. However, she used the motion to carry her body so her back was too him, still crouched. From there, she launched herself into something like a back tuck.

He was about to admonish her for giving up her back by back mounting her, which probably would have been the end of that round since she would not have been able to protect herself properly or dismount him. To his surprise, she sprung up as if she was on a catapult and, before he knew what she was doing, had her hands on his shoulders. The back tuck carried her around and her grip pulled her in--slamming her knees into his back. Riddick stumbled forward and almost fell when she let go and pushed off.

"You're spry today," he said as he whirled around to face her, "That was good. Not something most of the big guys are gonna be able to do. Use that to your advantage. I noticed you're more acrobatic... we're going to play into that with your fighting. Show me what else you have up your sleeve."

It wasn't really an exhibition match or anything, just showing what she could do--she fully realized that if any of her techniques slipped up, he would be taking severe advantage of them. Keeping that in mind, she also cut out most of the flashy, wowing maneuvers in favor of the more practical ones.

Again, she rushed him, always wary that he was far more powerful and just as fast. Her flexibility had a bit more leverage over his... excluding the fact that he could dislocate some joints; a gross (and painful) but useful trick she wasn't sure she was quite ready to learn.

Jack whipped around, delivering a high heel-kick he that ducked. He moved in to take advantage of an opening, but caught a back fist that followed while she finished her spin. He backed away more in surprise from the sudden hit than from the pain or the force of the blow. She was doing much better this time around, was more focused. He would have to step things up a notch.

This time, he went on the offensive and moved forward with a stepping forward kick. She easily spun away, but was instantly caught up in a blizzard of punches coming at her at rates she knew were impossible for her to deal with. She had to do something to keep the punches from raining down on her. So far, she was forced to block, taking his massive fists on her arms. This wouldn't do. Some made it through and she gained a few more bruises for the day.

Finally she took the chance and targeted one of the punches. She dropped her block and snapped out her hands, encircling his wrist. Tugging forward and down, she hopped up with a knee and slammed it into his jaw. He reeled back, but then brought his head forward with just as much speed.

If she had been taller, he probably would have crushed her nose something awful. Instead, her forehead took the blow and the cut on her eyebrow reopened a tad. It bled, but not profusely. She was more worried about the vacation her senses had just taken. Stumbling backward, she remained disoriented. Jack knew he sure as Hell wouldn't be stopping now, though.

"Shit, Rid-" she halted herself before anyone within earshot heard them; she collected herself enough for the world to stop spinning, "Rick, what's your head made of, bricks?"

She had totally lost track of him. Jack wanted to spin around, but immediately felt an arm under her chin before she could tuck it. Instinctually, her hands went up to try to loosen it before common sense kicked in. It was a little harder to concentrate when she couldn't breathe, but she slammed her elbows into his ribs hard enough to ensure some pretty shades of green purple tomorrow. His grip loosened and she took in a precious breath. Jamming her right leg behind his, she made a slight rotation and bashed her shoulder into his broad chest. Just as they'd practiced, she fell with an elbow to his gut, and then dismounted in a back handspring.

Jack jerked her hand out and panted out, "Slice."

Riddick rolled to the side and stood up, "Good. I want to see more of this."

Praise from Riddick was never idle, it was a sure sign that she was improving and the girl knew it. That didn't mean she could get over-confident, though. Her head still smarted.

She gave a nod and they resumed their spar.

* * *

Zimmy was so wrapped up in the almost artful violence of the spar that she forgot to tell the girls to keep playing. It would have been slightly hypocritical. Audrey usually received satisfactory marks in Phys. Ed. Normal, a bit athletic. Save that very first day four years ago when she had been stunned by the girl's ascent in the rope climb. Seeing Audrey now, she realized the girl had been holding back in the majority of her physical prowess. That perturbed her--she preferred to push her students. This Rick guy was certainly doing that, though.

There was a smudge of blood down the left side of Audrey's face and she felt like she should stop them... but as they two circled each other, she saw the slight smile on Audrey's face. It seemed insane, but for some reason the girl was enjoying it. There was a light in her eyes that the girl never displayed before. Against common sense, she let it continue.

She turned her head away and noticed the rest of the girls caught up as she was. Well... she couldn't exactly fault them, this time; even she was impressed.

"Come on girls, we can't play spectator all class. Keep the game moving," she said, turning the reluctant girls back to the forgotten ball lying somewhere near the middle of the court. As she turned around however, she overheard two of her students--Cassandra and Rachel commenting on the spar.

"Do you think she's doing better? I mean, she took less hits than yesterday," Rachel said.

"I don't know... I guess it depends on how serious they're going to get. They aren't exactly going at it as hard as they were yesterday."

"I thought they were trying to kill each other."

Cassandra shrugged, and then leapt in to kick the ball down court as it came her way. She took a moment to reply before moving a bit more down field, "For a while it certainly looked that way. But you have to consider he probably held back. Scary thought."

Cassandra and Rachel were, to Zimmy's knowledge, Jack's only known friends. They obviously had witness the more intense spar that brought Jack in looking as she did today. Apparently, it was beyond this rough row she was seeing. That... surprised her, to be truthful. And worried her a bit. Again, she wondered: What was Rick teaching this girl? And why?

* * *

The fight dragged out a bit longer. He wasn't as hard on her as he was yesterday... but he was prolonging the fight. It was then that she recalled him mentioning something about working on her endurance. So it seemed the intense brutality was being replaced with extended brutality. Not that she minded. They still had almost an hour left in this class.

They clashed a few times, landed a few blows, and backed off. Other times she would be dodging and blocking at maddening rates while trying to figure out a way to counter. Every now and then, she would land a good hit. He didn't respond with much other than a barely perceptible nod of his head. Those nods urged her to keep pushing; to do better--dodge faster, hit harder, move quicker.

She hadn't exactly planned it, but at some point he had actually let his guard down--she couldn't figure out if it was intentional or not, but didn't bother asking--and she snuck past a punch. Jack rounded behind him with a kick to the back of his knee, dropping him into a one-legged kneel. She followed by a punishing blow to the side of his head. She was sure it hurt--probably the worst punch she had dealt during both spars. He tilted to the side with the force of it and landed with both hands to the side. Looking back at her, he mule-kicked out the leg she had downed and it connected with her stomach. The air blasted out of her and she stumbled backward, holding her gut.

She pushed past it, ignoring the pain for now in favor of charging him. He'd taught her that anyone that was down wasn't necessarily out and to take full advantage of that situation. Jack came in with another hard punch.

In hindsight, she decided to repeat it to herself twice--anyone that was down wasn't _ever_ necessarily out. It all happened in one fluid movement. His huge hand griped her smaller fist and tugged her entirely off balance, using her forward momentum against her. Riddick slammed an open palm into her aching stomach, making her clench her teeth. He stood up, all the while pulling her body with him until he had her over his head. Still carrying her inertia, he shoved her off his palm and let go of her arm.

'_So this was what flying was like..._' she thought.

Unlike birds, Jacks couldn't fly. And Jacks certainly didn't belong careening through the air like birds.

She curled into herself and somehow managed to give herself rotation. In and insane feat of acrobatic skill that had Riddick raising his brows, she untucked herself and twisted in mid-air, righting herself. She landed in a cat-like crouch, on all fours. Her chest was heaving and sweat had budded over her. The primal look in her eyes showed just how much of her animal she still carried with her, just how close to the surface it was.

Riddick was about to call the spar to and end since they had other things to train. She looked sufficiently worked over. Just at the moment, however he saw something large and white headed toward Jack.

"Watch out!" one of the girls exclaimed. She had kicked the ball too hard and her aim was off.

Jack instinctively reached behind her as she rose up in a spin. All she saw was something sailing straight toward her head. Without thinking about it, she pulled the shiv from her pants and swiped it at the fast-approaching projectile.

All anyone saw was a flash of reflected light arcing through the air before the ball was flung off to the side. The adrenaline within her was high and the girl was still breathing heavily, her mind racing to catch up to what had actually happened.

A ball.

She slowly eased herself out of the dire tension that had riddled her every muscle. It was only a ball. Its stuffing was hanging out of a large gash as it slowly rolled to a stop.

Riddick walked over to the ball, picking it up and examining the large incision on it. One eyebrow raised as he glanced toward the girl, who was looking almost as surprised as the rest of her class. He dropped the ball with a shake of his head and a grunt that could have been a half-chuckle.

"Well shit, Jack," he said just loud enough for her to hear.

That started her out of her numbness enough for her to put her hand behind her back and slip the shiv away again.

Zimmy blinked once, staring at the ball for a moment and noting its state before she noticed the slight movement. Audrey had just hidden something behind her back and she had an idea what. Zimmy doubted the other girls knew just what had happened. She began walking toward Audrey, intent on finding out just what had happened.

Something must have been intimidating in her gait--the one that had been drilled into her in her years of service--because she saw the girl shrink a bit. It wasn't the cowing sort of shrink, Zimmy realized; it was a confrontational sinking of her stance that had the teacher slowing in her steps. The intense look in the girl's eyes made her adopt what she hoped was a less threatening approach. Zimmy decided it would be best to exercise caution. The girl was definitely on a tightly coiled spring. That, like many things in the past fifteen minutes, disturbed her.

Rick was suddenly behind the girl, putting a hand on her shoulder. It was only a moment before he removed it, but the steady--almost predatory--gaze Audrey held on her quickly faded and she stood at full height.

The girl met her eyes with a defiance that she'd never associated with the quiet, almost docile girl in her Phys. Ed. class. This was a different Audrey; that shouldn't have made sense, but it did.

"What did you use to do that?"

"...My hand," Audrey stated dully, as if it were obvious.

Pulling up her stern, lieutenant-mode, she replied in a stronger voice, "Don't jerk me around, girl. I'll search you if I have to."

She saw the girl's jaw tense and as she obviously weighed the pros and cons of handing over whatever blade she'd been using. The fact that she was considering not handing it over at all surprised Zimmy. This girl had a lot of guts. That tone of voice used to make her platoon snap to attention.

After a short moment of hesitation, she reached behind her and pulled out a smoothly curving shank. It was definitely homemade... but some obvious care was put into its creation. Its grip fit the girl's hand size and the blade had an interesting, almost flame-like shape to it. Judging by its quality, she could only begin to guess where she got it or who would sell it to a minor. Maybe some street vendor, but those types of vendors were in the seedier parts of town--places she didn't think Audrey would have gone before now.

"Where did you buy that?" Zimmy asked, figuring she could at least have the vendor arrested. The last thing she needed was some greedy bastard selling weapons to kids.

Something in that question inherently offended the girl and her face went red with anger, "I didn't _buy_ it."

"Look, this might go easier for you if you tell me who made it," she said, losing her patience with the suddenly stubborn student.

"I just told you. _I_ made it," Audrey said in a slight growl. Her knuckled tightened around the shank as she scowled at her teacher.

Now she had to pause, intrigued by this newest statement. She looked at the weapon--the ease with which she wielded it and how she had used it. Perhaps she had made it.

"Hand it over."

Audrey's face, if possible, darkened and she looked ready to balk. But a deep voice from behind the girl reminded her that Rick was still there. She'd almost forgotten his immense frame--somehow.

"Give it to her... Audrey."

"_What_?" she said, turning around to stare at Rick as if he were mad, "She won't give it back if I give it to her. I've been perfecting it for the past fucking month and I just finished it last night. There's no way in Hell I'm just gonna _hand_ it to her!"

Zimmy barely held her composure upon hearing the girl curse. She wasn't aware Audrey _could_. If there was one thing she was rapidly learning, it was that Audrey was not what she appeared to be.

"She'll give your shiv back," Rick stated with a certain calm that had Zimmy staring at him, but she couldn't see past those dark goggles.

After a moment, Audrey held the blade out over Zimmy's open hand, the slow uncurling of her fingers so stiff that it was obvious she was fighting against the urge to pull it back and keep it. When the blade was in her grasp, she looked at it more closely. It was... very, very well crafted. Audrey wasn't kidding when she said it was perfected. The curve was natural and though it was a tad small in Zimmy's hands, she could still feel the gentle curves in the grip molding to her hand.

"I'm impressed," Zimmy muttered. Then she shook herself out of it and looked up at the girl, who was eyeing her shiv--as if making sure it didn't disappear in front of her eyes. "Do you have any more of these on you?"

"No," Audrey responded blankly.

Then she jerked forward a bit and turned to glare at Rick, who stood behind her seemingly impassive. Turning back with a sour look on her face.

Through gritted teeth, the girl bit out, "_Yes_."

Zimmy waited for a few seconds, but the girl simply stared back at her. With a hint of annoyed exasperation, she held out her other hand, "Take it out and give it to me."

Green eyes deadpanned at the teacher as if it were an insane suggestion. The girl narrowed her eyes and shook her head, "Not until you give her back."

The rigid stance the girl was in told her this would go nowhere. Zimmy also noted how Audrey referred to the blade as a 'her' instead of an 'it.' She must have put a lot of herself into creating the knife. Still, to bring it onto school property was against the rules. She considered just keeping it and searching the girl for the other one, but the moment her body language shifted, so did Rick's. Her eyes turned to his goggles and the way his head was aimed at her hand; he was probably staring at the knife. Then his head turned up to her and canted to the side.

She couldn't read his body language, but she knew that he knew what she was considering. The girl seemed to read it, too, and tensed up again. That surprised her--she was now holding the knife and the girl looked ready to fight her for it. She wasn't sure what to do, at this point. The hesitation seemed to make Audrey even more agitated and she looked seconds away from going for it.

"I'll take it," Rick said, snapping the girl's attention away from Zimmy.

Clearly, Audrey wanted protest, but her lips were tightly pursed and she forcibly unwound herself. Zimmy didn't think it was a good idea to give up the shank, but decided it was better in Mr. Phoebus' hands than Audrey's. She held it out and she watched Audrey's eyes trail it all the way to Rick's hands.

"Alright... now the other one," the teacher said.

The girl grumbled something, most of which she was sure she didn't want to make out, and took a longer shiv out of the large boots that weren't school issue and she wasn't supposed to wear--Audrey's only real deviation from the rules she had known about. The boots didn't bother her as much as they did other teachers.

Rick's hand moved out and took the blade from her grasp. Audrey looked fit to explode, but quieted when she noticed him looking it over. Suddenly Zimmy saw Audrey's expression go from indignant to what she could only describe as hopeful. She didn't quite understand what the look on her face was about, but she held her tongue for the moment.

"This isn't the same one from yesterday--it's larger," Rick said.

"No, they're twin sister blades."

Rick glanced up from the blade momentarily, raising a brow at her.

"Fraternal, not identical," Audrey said seriously.

Rick smirked a bit and shook his head, "Still heavy on the back end. That what I think it is?"

"Yeah."

He found the depression on the grip and slid it to the side. Like before, a spike dropped out of the pommel. Rick touched a finger lightly to the point of the spike, but not enough to break skin.

"How long did it take you to make them?"

"Only about a month and a half; the hard part was how to get the spikes to lock in place, but I fixed that with a sort of thread groove on the top of the spike matching grooves inside the pommel. So you slide the guard back and it locks."

"Inventive," he said.

It didn't sound like much, but it made Audrey beam. Zimmy couldn't understand the girl; she was unlike anyone she'd ever come across. She could see that Audrey's knives weren't something that surprised Mr. Phoebus. Her suspicions surrounding the two deepened, but she still didn't have enough pieces of the puzzle to figure out just who Audrey and Rick were. She knew Audrey was adopted and was living with the Al-Walid family... but before that her record was literally blank.

Zimmy cleared her throat and watched the smile snuff from the girl's face in an instant. Immediately, the lively look in the Audrey's eyes went piercing and cold.

"Mr. Phoebus, you were aware that Audrey was bringing weapons to school?"

"Yeah," Rick didn't sound too concerned, but there was a careful reticence about him.

"Why would she bring a weapon to school, Mr. Phoebus?" she asked, trying to regulate her temper--which Rick seemed to have no problems raising.

Rick remained stoic while answering simply, "Because I told her to."

For a moment, Zimmy was at a loss for what to say. It was dangerous, it was stupid, it was against the rules... and so many other thoughts ran through her head. Her mouth parted, but nothing came out for several seconds.

"That... has to be the most irresponsible thing I've ever heard. Why would you tell her to do such a thing?"

"For protection," he said with that damned, unflappable expression on his face.

"Protection? From what?" she said exasperatedly, "This is a school, not a war zone."

Both Audrey and Mr. Phoebus were silent, staring at her and--oddly enough--in the same stance. The girl had obviously picked it up from him. The silence dragged out. Zimmy grew impatient.

"Well?"

After a few more seconds, it became clear that the two were not going to answer her. She heard a few murmurings from behind her, as the class had come to a complete stop and all were trying to eavesdrop on the mostly quiet conversation. This couldn't be a daily occurrence. Her classes would never survive.

"Are you aware that Audrey could be suspended or expelled for carrying weapons on school property? What would you do if she was expelled--that goes on a permanent record, you know."

"I'd teach her," came the simple, somewhat candid reply.

"Really?" Audrey said; there was a hint of almost anticipatory gleam in her eyes.

As soon as Zimmy saw the idea blossom in Ms. Knight's eye, she tried to suppress it. Unfortunately, she only wound up fanning the flames.

"Teach her what, Mr. Phoebus?"

"I'm a trader. Thinkin' about a small business, actually. I could always take her on as an apprentice--pay her ten percent of the cut." He raised his hands, making a pantomimed sign frame, "Phoebus-Knight Trading. Has a ring to it, I think."

Audrey gave him a somewhat cross look mixed with some embarrassment--why, Zimmy couldn't guess; it was probably an in-joke of some sort.

"The life of a trader--barring the hazards of potential pirate raids--is no life for a child, Mr. Phoebus."

"I'm not a child. And I'm worth at least thirty," Audrey scoffed.

He chuckled slightly, "Are you shitting me? You're a greenie; I'd have to teach you the ropes from A to Z. You don't know the first thing about piloting. Fifteen _max_."

Audrey made a face and retorted, "Who's shitting who? My negotiation skills are worth at least a quarter from the get-go. That's important in trading, so I'd be doing you a favor. If I'd _gone with you_, you woulda seen that."

"If I was feeling _gracious_, I'd take you on at twenty--_if_ you could run a two month trial period steady," Rick said as he crossed his arms in a gesture of finality.

Audrey adopted the same gesture, apparently agreeing to the wages, "I suppose if I _undersold_ myself, I could accept twenty _to start_ with."

"This isn't a good bluff," Zimmy interrupted.

"That's because it wasn't. She leaves here and we'll make a quick stop by the Holy Man to pack. Be off-planet in half an hour, forty-five tops."

She narrowed her eyes into the reflective, black lenses, "...Bull."

There was a beat of silence. Then Rick put his hand on Audrey's shoulder, turning her about and propelling her toward the door. He pocketed the two shivs--he'd give them back later. The large, goggled man turned around to follow her.

His solid voice carried over his shoulder, "We're done here."

Only seconds later, Zimmy decided she'd lost this round, "Fine. She stays and keeps the blades... but during this class, I will withhold them. Outside of this class, she doesn't draw them on school property. I won't log this incident."

Audrey and Rick both froze. Audrey was quicker to turn around, however. Her expression was unpleasantly angry. Her eyes burned holes into Rick as he stood there like a statue, weighing the words.

"Rick... You said it yourself. It wasn't a bluff. You _can't_ back out now. I'll learn more out there than I will sitting around here just... boring myself to tears in those stupid desks," she all but growled, "Let's just _go_."

This was what she had wanted all along! He couldn't just offer it to her and take it back on the first capitulation! Her jaws worked, clenching her teeth repeatedly as she saw the gears in his head turning, contemplating, plotting. It was enough to make her want to scream. How she held back, Audrey had no idea.

"That'll work, for now," Rick said equivocally, "But-"

"No it won't!" Audrey burst out as she marched up to him, "I'm not going to just sit here while you-"

"_But_," he continued, speaking over her in a tone that instantly silenced her, "we will hold our training here instead of in the evenings, as per our agreement. And we will spend an hour every day after school--two hours a day every weekend--in the cockpit."

Rick walked over to Zimmy and handed over the two shivs. _Her_ shivs.

Audrey clearly wasn't happy with it. For now, however, she would take what she could get. That didn't mean she would let him tread on her favorite dream--where he showed up and took her with him--without so much as a word. She stalked back to their equipment that he'd brought with him. The ruined ball was lying next to it...

Audrey picked up the ball on a whim, spun around, and flung it as hard as she could. There was a dull thump-puff sound that emitted as the ball lost what integrity it had left and expelled its visceral stuffing in a small explosion after impacting with the back of Rick's head.

"The fuck!"

'_Mission__ accomplished,_' Audrey thought, even though she knew it would likely earn her a lot more trouble than it was worth. And with that, she moved to the medical kit to clean her cuts.

* * *

"Analgesic?" she said in a deceptively calm and innocent voice, holding out a small stick to him.

"Your endurance needs work," Rick replied in the same voice after taking the stick.

'_Uh-oh,_' Audrey thought, watching as he squeezed some salve from the stick to rub on some welts and around a few cuts.

"We're gonna train out your overextension, too. There's too much to exploit when you compensate that left of yours. We close that gap up and you'll take fewer hits, which will keep you in the game longer."

When they had sufficiently cleaned and patched up the small cuts they'd acquired, Rick took them over to the boxing section of the large gym, located in the corner. It was seldom if ever used by the female body of students.

They moved over to the heavy punching bag. It was built not to swing for anything less than an extremely heavy hit--the kind that would take Rick some effort to move with his massive arms. She went through a few rounds of punches, getting corrections as she went. Soon enough, Rick had her striking it properly; even punches with good technique at a steady rhythm. This dragged out over several minutes. Of course, she was already a bit tired, so this doubled as endurance training.

"Show me that anger, Jack," he said lowly, "I want you to use it when you hit. Your anger's your energy."

"Thought you said-" she said haltingly, striking the bag twice, "-not to let my anger get a hold."

"That's right. You use your anger; don't let it use you. Anger is good--it's constructive. It gives people the ability to push further."

There was a slight pause in the punches. And then they resumed with a seeming renewed vigor.

"There you go, Jack. Let it out."

He watched her as the bag shook. Her eyes were wild, but focused. Her entire body trembled with rage that was channeled directly into her fists. She pushed her body--and her mind--to work past the burning in her muscles, the sore spots from bruises and welts. Jack continued to punch.

"Hit it," he demanded.

The smacks resounded through the gym.

"Do it again!"

They were violent sounds, ones that had long since traversed past the point of feeling pain or exhaustion. Jack barely felt a thing as she worked with a dogged determination born from the single-minded minded goal to destroy the punching bag.

"Again!" Riddick said, urging her animalistic frenzy onward.

Jack pummeled the bag continually with her fists, the motions burned into her mind. Harder, the strikes flew at the slightly yielding material in front of her. Faster, her arms pistoned into it with a relentless fury.

Jack completely lost track of how long she'd been working the bag over; along the way, her punches had slowed as she started to gas out. The girl didn't dare stop, however. Then she registered the presence of someone coming up behind her. Riddick didn't stop her, so she continued to hit the bag, still alert--somewhere on the fringes of her mind--to the person behind her.

The other girls had to be ushered to the locker room; she didn't doubt they would have just stuck around to watch Mr. Phoebus put Audrey through an intensive workout. Nevertheless, the class was over the girl looked ready to fall over. Zimmy was surprised the girl was still going at it.

"Audrey."

When Audrey whirled around, there was a wild look in her eyes... one that made her almost unrecognizable. After everything else, she was still greatly bothered, but Zimmy wasn't as shocked. Still, she had to get the girl to the rest of her classes.

"Class is over, Audrey."

There was no recognition in the girl's eyes. It was like staring into a wild cat's eyes, that predatory fixation of eyes on her. Rick moved closer to the girl, leaning down to whisper something into her ear.

"You're Audrey," Riddick said quietly, then handed her a towel.

Audrey blinked twice and came out of whatever trance had come over her. Those dark, emerald eyes stared at Zimmy as if just noticing her.

"...Right," Audrey replied as she took in the words that had been spoken. She wiped her face and then paused, "Shivs."

"What?" Zimmy replied--a little too caught up in the girl's sudden change.

'_Talk about unnerving,_' she thought.

The girl clarified with a hint of irritation, "I _want_ my _shivs_ back."

Zimmy was a still reluctant to give the blades back to the girl, but it was their agreement. She dug the blades out of her waistband and held them out. Audrey seemed as though she couldn't get them back soon enough.

Rick put placed a hand on Audrey's back to get her attention, "See you after school."

Rick then gently pushed Audrey off to the women's lockers and, without another word, left for the men's lockers. Zimmy remained for a few more minutes, contemplating everything. Eventually, she went to the locker room and found Audrey surrounded by several of the other girls. To her surprise, the defiance as well as the wildness inside her was gone. In its place, the blank-eyed, docile creature replaced her. It was as if there was no one upstairs. She shook her head, almost disgusted with how she'd fallen for a child's ruse. But only almost... because Audrey had fooled everyone.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Ah, Zimmy. We'll be seeing more of her later! She was practically a spur of the moment character in the beginning, but as I continued writing, I began to realize she would likely be playing a larger role than I initially realized. I'm glad I didn't keep her as a plot device character.

The spar scene was Heaven and Hell; there were times when I loved what was happening and other times I wanted to bang my head on the wall 'til a good idea fell out. Between mentally choreographing fights and then putting the proper words to them, I could go mad. When I finished this, however, I have to admit I was smugly satisfied. Hope you found it to your liking.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	4. 4: Full Circle

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 4: Full Circle_

Audrey let the water sluice over, wincing slightly as the warm water hit the cut above her brow. Still, the warm (actually, it was bordering on scalding) water felt good. By the time she had finished her shower, her skin was slightly red from it. It was just what she needed to keep the cramps that likely would want to develop from hitting her like a ton of bricks. Already her arms were soggy noodles and her hands were made of lead, but she couldn't complain. Audrey felt better than she had in days.

The locker room was buzzing with talk, but she ignored it. The moment she pulled her shirt over her head, however, all sound stopped. That was the first hint something was direly wrong. The girls in her class didn't even know the definition of silence. The second hint was when her head popped out of the shirt to find three girls surrounding her spot on the bench. Rachel and Cassandra were nearby and, although they were not looking her way, they were paying attention to this; so was the rest of the class. Audrey felt slightly out of her element and more than a little uncomfortable being the center of attention.

"Who was that?" asked the first girl, who was seemingly just another non-descript girl of the Chrislamic faith.

Audrey stared at her with a look of complete incomprehension on her face. Those verdant eyes just reflected, took in nothing. Her head slowly tilted to the side.

That was the thing about Audrey: sometimes she didn't speak when she held conversations. It was odd, but the expressions on her face and the little gestures she made were often all most people got out of her. For the first three days of her freshman year, people thought she might be mute. On the fourth day, a few people were startled when she answered an instructor's question verbally.

The second girl, a chatty thing with an accented figure that screamed her freedom of spirit (and possibly body, if Audrey wanted to be truthful) gushed, "He was _huge_."

Realization dawned upon Audrey that they were talking about none other than Big Evil. She wasn't sure she wanted to have this conversation.

"You mean Rick?"

"No, the other guy that looked like he was chiseled out of stone," another girl said, this one showed a bit of spunk... of rebellious spirit. More or less, she was just like most other girls.

"Uh..."

Audrey was at a loss--she never really paid too much attention to her classmates. She didn't even know these girls' names.

The first girl piped up again, "Rick, huh? Is he in the military?"

Audrey blinked and realized this could get out of hand--she didn't want questions about Rick popping up. She didn't want him leaving any time soon because of some gossiping girls. She caught the semi-nervous glances of Cassy and Rach, but pulled together her story. To be consistent, she used the same initial line of bull she had on her friends.

"Sort of. He's a trader, now. Just stopped in for a while."

Spunky Girl, as Audrey was beginning to think of the third girl, asked another question, "What's up with the goggles?"

Instantly on the defensive, Audrey replied quickly in a flat tone that all but screamed her insistence that they not discuss it, "He has an eye condition."

Getting the hint, Spunky didn't pursue the topic... but she wasn't nearly done with her curiosity, "So he just dropped in and decided to pick a fight with you?"

"He's teaching me self-defense," Audrey replied.

"If self-defense means I get to lay on _that_, where do I sign up?" the Flirt--the second girl's newly assigned label in Audrey's mind--asked.

Audrey remembered how Rick had walked her through that dismount at the beginning. She hadn't even thought of Rick like that until just recently, and certainly not during training. She could feel her cheeks warming up and suddenly realized they were waiting for a response.

"I... I don't think he'd teach anyone else..." she stammered.

"So he's like your personal trainer?" the first girl inquired.

Flirt grinned widely and threw out her thoughts on that, "He could... _personally_... train me anytime!"

Thoughts flew through Audrey's head that had never quite entered her mind. At least, not where Riddick was concerned. Her face quickly grew red as she tried to dispel the more graphic images that made her mouth go dry.

Her friends, Cassandra and Rachel, were wisely silent, but she knew they--like everyone else in the room--were paying rapt attention to her. Now that they had seen her blush, they would probably never allow it to slip. She almost dreaded the walk home, which generally included a stop at the cafe.

"Lay off it, you horn-ball," the first girl said, giving Audrey some reprieve, "Besides, it looks like he's taken."

Almost simultaneously, more than half of the class listening to the conversation let out a disappointed breath. A few giggles followed. However, those trailed off--after all, the mini-interrogation wasn't over yet!

Audrey had a stupid look on her face, as if everything had glossed over her. She couldn't quite understand what the girl meant and simply stared at the three girls with something close to that initial incomprehension.

Just then, Flirt decided to go for broke, "Can you give us details?"

"Huh?" Audrey intelligently replied.

"_You know_..." she urged with a Cheshire grin, "is he a good kisser."

Finally it clicked and, with her imagination burning the scenario of Riddick kissing her into her brain like a branding mark, her face glowed a radiant red like a heated poker. Her eyes were wide, like a wide-eyed animal stunned by a brilliant light.

"I-..."

"Damn," Flirt cursed, "If you haven't kissed him yet, I guess there's no hope of any _other_ details... is there?"

"Stop it, before her face catches fire," Spunky intervened.

Audrey leaned down to tie her boots and, as far as she was concerned, the conversation was finished. She put them on deliberately slow, just so she wouldn't have to look at anyone. Her face was still burning.

The Flirt conceded, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender, "Okay, okay... So can I ask him out, then?"

'_Over my dead body,_' Jack hissed in her mind.

Her head jerked up and fixed the girl with a level stare that was probably more unnerving than anything she had done so far. Audrey was startled by her thoughts, their possessiveness, but she didn't examine them just then. Instead, she kept her mind focused on drilling the silent, but obvious message into Flirt.

"Uh, right..."

The girls finished getting dressed, the questioning was over, and now the topic dispersed amongst the various cliques. Audrey herself simply wished to get it out of her head. Some of the whispered statements about Rick, however, were making that close to impossible. Audrey buried her face into the towel, shaking her head in an effort to clear all the cobwebs and various (and sometimes explicit) things that had run through her head in less than six hours.

Her muffled voice came through the towel, "I'll never be able to look at him shirtless again."

Flirt immediately turned around, her eyes growing wide, "Eh?"

Just at that moment, Mrs. Zimmerman walked in, saving Audrey from further mortification. She was certain the girls would stay here and gossip for quite some time if left to their own devices.

"Alright, girls, time to go. I don't want you late for your next classes."

She noticed that Audrey lingered, undoubtedly intending to exit last. Her friends, Cassandra and Rachel, were beside her. Zimmy stopped Audrey on the way out.

"Remember our agreement, young lady."

There was a venomous look that almost entered her eyes before she immediately checked herself, "Don't worry about that. You can ask Cassie and Rachel, I've never pulled a shiv out in school."

Audrey glanced back at them, as if prompting them. The two nodded slowly and the girl turned back to face Mrs. Zimmerman. The coach was surprised she would include the two as part of the discussion. They looked a little less awkward than she felt, probably because they'd had since yesterday to deal with the new information.

"It's true, we didn't even know she _had_ them until yesterday," Rachel said, surprised how well she and Cassie had taken everything so far. After all, Audrey was still their friend--even if there was more to her than originally met the eye.

"...Okay, then," Zimmy conceded, waving them on.

When they were gone, the coach went to her office and sat back in her chair, pondering the enigma that was Audrey.

* * *

The rest of the school was abuzz by the seventh class. She could hear bits and pieces of whispered conversations and gossip. Audrey didn't pay it any mind. To all others, she was once again that impassive, somewhat boring girl. Of course, lots of interesting things were cropping up, now... but nothing seemed to change her outward appearance. The student body was talking about Rick, his origins, speculation of Audrey's self-defense lessons... and, inevitably, what relationship she had with her 'instructor.'

Audrey went through the rest of her classes without incident. The stares showed that dozens were curious and wanted to know more about her and everything surrounding her in general, but no one had the courage to ask.

Eventually, school let out and Cassie and Rachel accompanied her to the cafe, just as they had almost every day for two and a half years. The cafe, _Le Rayon de Soleil_, was an impressive diner with a few outside tables with umbrellas. It served some nice medium-sized meals. However, most did not come for the meals. Its claim to fame was its wide selection of beverages, which was not limited to teas and coffees. Most drinks were nonalcoholic, but wines were on the adult list. It was a popular haunt for both the young and old.

They sat at one of the patio tables, the umbrella shading them from the harsh Helion sun. The girls didn't often gossip; if there was one thing the three girls hated most, it was unfounded gossip. Instead, their topics usually revolved around the facts. Of course, they threw out their own theories, but they did not put too much weight into their speculation. Today, they had plenty to talk about as they sipped their hot tea and munched on some bagels.

"Did you see the news this morning?" Cassandra asked.

Audrey shook her head. She glanced at the news long enough to make there were sure no headlines about Riddick or herself. If she wasn't in dire straits, then it didn't quite interest her. The universe would go on...

"No, I woke up late and didn't get the chance. What happened?" Rachel asked.

If Rachel hadn't been so tired from last night's episodes, she might have been up a bit earlier and caught the news. Unfortunately, she decided to sleep in an extra hour instead of eating breakfast while watching the news. It seemed that she missed something.

"They said Cerberus hit the Aquilan Banking Trust. Over ten-thousand people lost small fortunes. One couple lost fifteen-thousand UDs."

Rachel went silent as she considered this. Her grandparents were in the Aquilan System. A bolt of anger shot through her and her teeth ground. To think that they might be victims of this enraged her. _Cerberus_ hit the Bank, did they?

Throughout time of cyberspace, there have been elite hackers. Some remained solo and some banded together. Sometimes a hacker could claim, for a short time, that they were the best. It was one giant game of King of the Hill. Hackers today were a culture all their own. Recently, a trio of hackers appeared, seemingly from nowhere--as most did in their anonymity. They claimed the name Cerberus, after the mythical three-headed hound. Each one had an alias, of course: Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthus. Cerberus' first moves were quite the feat, drawing much attention.

Some questioned if Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthus were well-established hackers that had adopted new aliases. The reply, by Cerberus itself, was a vehement no. In response, some sought to test the newcomers. After several decisive victories, over various Alliance authorities and other hackers, Cerberus earned its infamous status. For the past two years, they had been leaving their 'calling card,' uncaught and at large. To date, every attempt to discover who the trio was has utterly failed.

The group was young, fresh on the scene... but in two years, they'd made quite the name for themselves. They loved to get information; particularly restricted information. What they did with it or what their motives are have been unclear. The patterns seemed random, but it had never revolved around _money_. Now they knock over a bank? It seemed so mundane and cliché for them... out of character.

Rachel frowned, "Odd."

Audrey and Cassie turned to her, watching her pensive and somewhat annoyed expression. Cassie wondered what bothered Rachel so much about the hackers. It was food for thought.

"Why's that odd?" Cassie asked, "Hackers get into all sorts of things. A bank would be one of the prime targets, don't you think? All that security--it's like a big sign saying 'just try it.'"

"Not Cerberus." Rachel countered, "They've never done anything like that. It just seems out of style for a big name group to go after UDs. It's almost _insulting_..."

Audrey spoke up; while this wasn't exactly rare, long periods of talking were not her forte. When she talked too much, she rambled. That was why Audrey made an effort not to talk excessively and, eventually, began using verbal conversation sparingly.

"Makes sense."

Cassie gave her a questioning look.

Audrey continued, "Back on Daedalus, I stayed with a small gang. They were all older, but they let me stay with them--safety in numbers and all that. There were two hackers in our group. They stole UDs to help us survive, but I got the impression that they didn't like it. I'm not extremely com-savvy, but they tolerated my questions.

"I never quite understood their feelings on the matter until I made a pull on this one lady..."

* * *

_ Jack slipped through the crowd, the stygian bowels of passage after passage crammed with the poor and the poorer. Jack was poorer than some, but not the poorest--because the poorest were dying. Jack was surviving._

_ To call it living would be an error. This environment of... subsistence... was a do or die, kill or be killed world. Jack caught on to that quite quickly. Sometimes those higher morals had to take the back seat. _Most_ everyone had some shred of their morality left, just enough to decipher wrong from right._

_ Jack picked her target carefully in the degenerated lighting. No one cared enough to fix the lights when they began to dim or went out altogether. It made her job all the easier. Some woman was wearing a loose, cloth sweater. It was probably once a bright scarlet, but it was faded, slowly desaturating into a dull, grey-red. Its pockets held a few meager UD cards. Those UDs would be dinner and breakfast for her. The lady was wan and looked tired. Easy prey. That's just how it was._

_ As the girl disguised as a boy brushed by, the rectangular chips holding ten, maybe twenty UDs each would be liberated from the sagging material. Jack was lost in the crowd without the woman being any the wiser._

* * *

_ Jack moved to the food vendors on Deck 4, using her UDs to pay for a meal. As she waited for its preparation, she stepped aside while the next person in line ordered. It was then that something caught her notice. That dulled, red sweater was more color than she was accustomed to seeing. She, herself wore dingy colors of which might have once been white, brown, and grey. The woman stood behind the man ordering, hand in her pocket and tightly fisted over what was obviously the last of her UDs._

_ In her other hand, a smaller hand attached to the arm of a young girl. The man stepped aside and the woman ordered a small bowl of soup. The little girl--younger than Jack by half her age--was quiet and bore the same, downtrodden expression as most everyone else. Smiles were a rarity on Daedalus._

_ They moved off and Jack received her large bowl of soup. Soup was cheap and it filled the stomach with the essentials. There were other things on the menu, but they were more expensive. She moved off with her bowl and made it a few more yards before she hung her head._

_ '_Damnit, this is going to be the death of me, I know it._' Jack mentally grumbled._

_ She followed the two all the way back to their little niche in an alley, a small metal box turned upside down made a table. The girl and her mother were sitting on the ground. The woman looked up as Jack approached them. The mother put a hand around the girl's shoulders, protectively._

_ Some part of Jack--the dying part of her that was still decidedly feminine--wrenched at her heart and it was a moment before she could find her voice. She sat down by the box and set the large bowl on it._

_ "I got a large 'cause I had some spare UDs," she lied, something Jack had become almost frighteningly adroit at doing, "I prob'ly can't finish all of it an' I noticed you didn't get a bowl of your own, so..."_

_ In spite of the falsity of its origins, Jack was sincere in her offer. The woman eyed her skeptically for a moment, something blossoming in her eye and disappearing just as quickly._

_ "Alright, we'll split it. I'm Kiara. She's Panny."_

_ The spoon was halfway to her mouth when she paused._

_ "Panny?" Jack inquired as she finished the motion and began to chew a bite of the beefy chunk in the thick broth._

_ "It's short for Pandora," Kiara said._

_ Jack coughed, almost choking on the broth. After she'd cleared her throat and swallowed the rest of her bite, she looked up at Kiara almost disbelievingly._

_ "_Pandora_? As in 'opened-up-a-box-of-evils' Pandora?"_

_ "You're more intelligent than you like to let on, I think."_

_ Jack just shrugged a bit at the comment, "Name's Jack."_

_ Kiara nodded as Jack passed her the spoon. Panny smiled up at her. It was an honest, innocent smile. Jack couldn't stop from answering the smile with one of her own; even if it was a tad bittersweet. God, she wished she could keep Panny smiling and innocent forever. ... But she couldn't, not here--Daedalus tainted everything inside it; like its sole purpose was to digest innocence with acidic corruption._

_ "I'm five!" Panny declared proudly._

_ "I'll be eleven in three months," replied Jack._

_ "Thank you, Jack--things have been stretched a bit thin this month and I was going to have to skip dinner tonight."_

_ Jack had to make an effort not to look regretful, '_Only because of me..._'_

_ Instead, she just nodded._

_ They continued talking for a while throughout the meal, they pinned down no topic in particular and spoke about anything and everything that crossed their minds for a while. Eventually the soup was finished and all three were fed. Jack stood up to leave._

_ "Wait," Kiara said, standing up and stepping up close to Jack._

_ Her personal space invaded, she tried to take a step back when Kiara's arms folded around her. They held her tight for a long moment and, eventually, Jack's tension unwound._

_ Kiara's voice was soft, soothing, "What's your name?"_

_ "I already told you," Jack said, suddenly feeling very awkward and on edge._

_ "It's hard to see through you, Jack, but I can. Don't worry, though, I doubt anyone else knows. But the way you smiled at my daughter, the look that was in your eyes when we spoke. You're not what you appear and you won't always be able to hide it."_

_ With every word, it felt like her body was being filled with lead. She couldn't move and, for some inexplicable reason, she was afraid. It showed in her stuttered whisper._

_ "I-I _have_ to..."_

_ Kiara whispered back, "I understand why you're hiding; you're a very smart girl. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. But you don't have to hide with me."_

_ "...Deirdre..."_

_ "God protect you, Deirdre."_

_ There were no tears to cry, but Jack leaned into the maternal embrace. She never realized how much she needed it. Kiara wasn't her mother, but it carried the same compassion and caring. The woman seemed to sense her frailty and the hug both calmed and energized Jack. It returned hope to her heart and strengthened her for the battles she knew to be ahead._

_ Kiara was first one to know Jack's real name before Imam and Riddick came into her life._

* * *

The memory finished and she had to wipe the corner of an eye with her sleeve. She came out of her reverie and finished what she was saying. She left out everything after the hug--the one _she_, whose name Audrey was afraid to even speak anymore, had desperately needed. Instead, she moved on to when she'd met up with the gang later that day.

"When I told Jessie and Mike--they were the hackers in our group--they told me that it was the same with hacking. You can do a lot with a com; even steal. And there are some things you just shouldn't take."

Jack had visited Kiara and Panny, eventually convincing the two of them to join the diverse, rag-tag group. Panny became the girl everyone loved to look after. Kiara became the mother none of them had anymore... A year later, Jack had to leave Daedalus.

'_I had to leave... to protect them. If I'd been found while they were with me, after I..._' and then Audrey put a clamp on the thoughts and the memory. No. She wasn't going to remember that. She wasn't, she wasn't, she _wasn't_. And, slowly, the episode disappeared from existence.

Cassie and Rachel listened, aware that another piece of 'Jack' had been revealed to them. Hearing this little story reminded Cassie of what they had been told last night, about how things were simpler when she was younger. The contrast between wondering what she should choose to eat and whether or not she _would_ eat allowed her to grasp how Audrey just didn't understand certain things. The girl hadn't grown up with the freedom of choices Cassie and Rachel had. Rachel, for her part, was now nodding.

"That's what I mean. I like to keep up with com stuff, and the things I read about Cerberus just don't fit that mold. It just seems unlikely that they'd bother with a bank."

Cassie nodded, supposing that made sense, but couldn't help asking, "Why does it matter who did it?"

Rachel hid her irritation--it wouldn't do anyone any good right now, "Because I have family there. My Grandparents live on Aquila Major; someone or some group, and I don't think it was Cerberus, might have robbed them."

Audrey followed the line of thought, "And the Alliance will follow the obvious clue to Cerberus, allowing the guilty hacker to slip away with everyone's money..."

Rachel sighed.

There was a moment of dead conversation, Rachel's mood not quite pleasant and Audrey quiet as usual. They slowly finished their tea and bagels. Finally, after a few minutes of thought, Cassandra found a new topic--one she hoped was less unpleasant than the last.

"Audrey... I know you said there was nothing before, but how do you feel about Rick?"

The girl's face turned a bit red. Audrey knew the topic was bound to crop up again. She also knew that Cassie didn't want to know just to satisfy her own petty curiosity or to use as gossip as the girls in the locker room had. It wasn't an idle query with a nearly rhetoric answer like greetings. No one really cares "how you are." They just want a "good, how are you." No, this was an honest question and Cassie wanted an honest answer. She blinked once in silence and thought before she answered.

"I... I guess I never really thought about it that way, before. Sometimes I think about a relationship with a guy, but all my mental images were always these... blanks. Just formless people; I never had a face or definitive body to it. And with Rick... it wasn't a consideration when I was twelve. I was more focused on getting off that fucking rock and away from the creatures and their _sounds_..."

Suddenly the clicking, whooping, and melodious calling that was so beautiful, twisted up in so much death that it had forever tainted her memory with phantom cries, returned. She shuddered. Her hand shot to the tooth on the necklace, holding it so tight it almost bit into her skin. Audrey squinted her eyes for a moment, banishing the awful sounds she had escaped. That's right... she got away. She was alive and it was over. Audrey would never have to hear that damning symphony of death again.

Rachel noticed something about the way Audrey had mentioned the sounds, watched the following shiver that followed--one that echoed in lesser, icy tingles down her spine. Obviously, it was a bad memory. Something about the sound made by the monsters Rick had killed terrified Audrey. She felt bad for the girl; she couldn't even imagine that level of fear--fear so bad it left trauma scars in her mind five years later...

Cassie noticed it as well and noised slightly to break the nightmare recollection. She steered clear of the topic about that planet and its inhabitants.

"Hm," Cassie toned, thinking over what Audrey told her, "You never thought about it before--what about now, though?"

"A-after," she cleared her throat, fighting back the blush trying to spill onto her cheeks, "After hearing those girls talk in the locker-room about Rick, that way. I was kinda forced to think about it. I'd never even thought about him like that until you brought it up this morning. And then that one girl mentioned kissing him... and stuff."

Her head felt like it was in the sun even though they were under the umbrella and she knew she was blushing darkly. She'd said it. Kiss Riddick. The thought was not at all as unpleasant as she'd initially envisioned it: awkward and uncomfortable. _And stuff_... the other 'stuff' didn't gross her out, either. Far from it, it was...

"Yeah... tell someone not to think about something and it's impossible for them not to think about it," Rachel put forth, "But, um, to be truthful... it's kinda hard to look at him and _not_ think about it. I mean, he just looks kind of... ... _exotic_."

Rachel was still a bit caught up thinking about his eyes. She'd been hypnotized by them, unable to look away when Rick had caught her staring at him last night. The only word that came to mind was gorgeous. Well, gorgeous and _intense_...

Like pools of silver...

"'Like pools of silver,' huh?" Audrey said with a slight smirk.

Rachel jumped a bit in her chair, mentally beating her head against a metaphorical wall, '_Oh, God, I said that out loud?_'

"W-well, they _are_..." she muttered.

"Okay, I can agree with that," Audrey began with a shrug, "But I guess, when I think about it... I have to think about it with a little bit of realism. Rick's... uh... busy. He goes about his business and doesn't have time for relationships, y'know? And he can't look at me that way; almost like the way I couldn't have looked at him before you brought it up."

Cassie frowned, not quite getting the picture, "Why not?"

Audrey blinked, stared back at Cassie, and then replied, "When we met, I was twelve."

"Oh."

The first impression, and their whole encounter as Cassie understood it, was with a twelve year old Audrey... or Jack, rather. And he'd been gone for five years, too. It would be hard for Audrey to move out of the shadow of her younger self, Cassie realized.

"Besides, he's not interested in a relationship... I don't think so, anyway."

Rachel gave her a questioning look, "He doesn't have plans of settling down or anything?"

"No, I don't think so. There were some... close calls... on the way here from that planet," she said, recalling the incident on the Kubla Khan, "But we wound up on this jumper, just the three of us again. It was high-class, but definitely not built for the long haul, y'know? No cryo units and its power cells were only large enough to support intersystem transit. So we had to make a few stops on our way here. Most times we stopped, he'd head off to a brothel and-"

Audrey paused at the noise Rachel made and Cassie scrunched up her nose, "What?"

"He uses prostitutes..." Cassie stated distastefully.

"I don't think he went there for the _tea_... And some of the hookers I knew on Daedalus weren't bad at all. Everyone's gotta earn a living. If you don't have anything and you need some quick UDs, you always have your body..."

They were both silent for a moment as they digested her logic. It was ugly, but it worked--and that was just part of Jack's world. The fact that this didn't quite faze Audrey shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it did.

"Besides, we were only planet-side or docked at station for three days at the maximum. If Rick needed to take care of himself, it was fine with us. Well, I think Imam might've frowned a bit... but what was he supposed to do? The way I saw it, there was a Holy Man, a twelve-year-old girl, and some prostitutes..."

Well, when she put it that way...

She coughed lightly, "Er... of course, I remember one time I decided to follow him for a bit-"

"Audrey!" Rachel almost squeaked in disapproval.

"I was curious, okay! Anyway, I followed him and he walked into the brothel and I peaked in through this window. The way he looked at the woman... I remember being jealous."

"_Jealous_?" Cassie said incredulously. Jealous of a prostitute?

"I wanted Rick to look at me that way..." She shook her head, trying to clear the old memory away. She failed and the event played back to her. "I don't think I realized exactly why I was jealous--I was just angry that he was with her.

"Of course, if I woulda had him back then, I wouldn't have known what to do with him... and I'm pretty sure Rick woulda been appalled at my thoughts. I mean, I wasn't thinking of having sex with him then; our relationship's very platonic. But I didn't want him to be with _her_, either... And... I don't know," she finished lamely.

She couldn't imagine what she could have been thinking back then. It was so _stupid_. Now that the memory was fresh in her mind, however... she was jealous again! And this time, she knew what she wanted and knew _exactly_ why she was jealous. Her face went red at the thought. She gave a sigh and rested her head in her hands.

"Wow," was all Cassie could think to say.

"Yeah, well," Audrey muttered.

Rachel raised another question, "So... do you think he's still... um..."

At least, she tried to, but the actual question seemed rather personal and she wasn't sure she really wanted to ask.

"Going to brothels? Well, he's been here two days. If there's one around here, probably. Hope so, anyway..."

"Why?" It was such an overt and aghast comment that Rachel immediately blushed afterward.

"Um... 'cause Rick's just very..." Audrey paused, searching for the right word, "_vigorous_." All three blushed at the well-placed adjective, but she continued anyway, "And when he's pent up for a while, he gets really intense. Almost unbearably so."

Suddenly worried, Cassandra warily asked, "He doesn't become... violent, does he?"

"No such luck," Audrey grumbled, "if he were being violent, I could handle that-"

"Audrey, no offense, but he'd pulverize you."

She fanned her hand in front of her in dismissal, "That's not what I meant. If he were the type to get violent, I'd just stay out of his way and let him hit something--or whatever bastard was stupid enough to piss him off while he was on his warpath. No, Rick's the kind of guy that belongs in the Asshole Hall of Fame.

"He will pick your brain, twist everything you say, and just generally dick with you until there's no right answer. He's too damn smart... He takes on the mood of an ogre. 'Why isn't this fucking food-prep machine working,' 'Why the Hell are your clothes still sitting out on the floor,' 'Don't use my shivs as a fucking can-opener!'"

Finished with her bitchy-Riddick-impersonation, she crossed her arms and sighed, "There were times when I just wanted to tell him to go out, find the first thing he saw in a skirt, and fuck it."

"Audrey!" both of them exclaimed at her crude remark.

"I didn't _say_ it..." she rebutted, "just thought it a whole bunch."

Something pricked at her senses and she blinked once in surprise. Audrey frowned, trying to place what it might have been, but Cassandra asked her a question, bringing her attention away from the feeling.

"You actually used one of his knives as a can-opener?"

Suddenly, a chair clopped down beside her and she jumped hand at her back, reaching for a shiv. A moment later, she was impersonating Helion's sun. She sank into her chair... and then slumped farther down it.

"Yeah, she did," his deep tones slid out as he sat his large frame in the chair he'd dragged over to the empty, fourth space of their table, "A can of tomato sauce for spaghetti. I walked into the kitchen and thought Jack ghosted the Holy Man."

'_Holy shit! How much did he hear? Was he listening the entire time?_' her thoughts spiraled and thudded into brain at the same, rapid pace her heart was beating.

"Do we have to talk about that?" Audrey said in a martyred tone.

"Hey, you must have brought it up or they wouldn't have asked."

'_He's too damn smart..._' her mind repeated, because she couldn't find a way out of that. And it was a trap, too. He was just waiting for her to make some smart-ass remark. She had to; because staying silent would let that stupid _smirk_ remain on his face. But she couldn't because he was just waiting to spring that trap on her--whatever it was, and it was bound to be infinitely more embarrassing or irritating than what had already been said.

'_Ugh!_' she mentally tossed up her arms and threw caution to the wind, "I _needed_ the sauce to make it and we didn't have a can-opener."

The smirk grew. Damnit.

"As I remember, you _couldn't_ make it. Or anything more complicated than scrambled eggs and toast."

"I-... Well-..." she stammered, "That's beside the point!"

Her notorious cooking skills (or lack thereof) were a private, if embarrassing, joke among the three of them. Lajjun had not heard it, thankfully; the woman had helped her learn to prepare some other dishes in the five years she'd been with the Al-Walid family, but she was still fairly useless with the heating units. It was one of the reasons she always tried to make sure the food-prep unit on the jumper was stocked on the way to Helion...

"You can't cook?" Cassie asked.

After all, it didn't really seem that hard. As long as you kept an eye on things. How did someone screw up spaghetti?

"So? I make kick-ass sandwiches," Audrey said defensively. She could feel her ears warming up and she tried to shift the attention away from the current topic, "Anyway, I doubt you came here to reminisce about culinary skills."

Rick shook his head at her cheeky tones, "Holy Man said you went to this cafe after school most days. If you're done, we're heading to the docking bay. It's time you learned something more practical than book smarts and fighting."

"So you're really gonna teach me to pilot?" she asked, eyes already glinting from the possibilities.

"Damn right. Wasn't joking about that partnership. _If_..." he paused, making sure that sunk in, "I'm still around, you're welcome to come on board after you graduate. But you better consider your options. You know what it's going to be like if you ship with me."

"Yeah," she said noncommittally, but inside a festival was being held inside her head and graduation suddenly became more important to Audrey.

She continued, "I still don't like having to give up my shivs, though. You were the one that said never to throw them away or go anywhere without them; and now giving them up, it just seems... _wrong_."

"The alternative wasn't an acceptable loss if it could be helped. You're going to finish school," he said unequivocally.

Cassie was surprised that he stressed that much importance on Audrey's education. The more she learned about Rick, the more complex things became. She did know, however, that Rick did care about what happened to Audrey. At first, she had doubted it; thought that, perhaps, he had some ulterior motive. It was hard to read the man and she knew she'd likely never be able to see past the surface, but his actions spoke loudly enough.

Jack stood up, having finished the last of her tea, and said good-bye to her friends. Cassie and Rachel stuck around a few more minutes, and then went their separate ways as well. Cassandra went home to complete the paper that was due tomorrow. Rachel, who had finished her paper however, had other things on her mind; maybe she should call up her grandparents and make sure they were okay...

* * *

Some hours later, the sun set into the sandy dunes. Jack and Riddick returned to the Al-Walid residence.

"Right. So... what happens if you _do_ load both the main and auxiliary power cells?"

Riddick gave a small, chuckling huff, "Best case scenario is that it overloads, fries your console and whoever's sitting at it, and leaves you without navigational power. If you're planet-side, you drop like a rock. If you're outside of any pull of gravity, you're drifting dead in space."

Jack digested that for a moment, "And worst case?"

"Critical power surge backwash."

She stared at him blankly, awaiting clarification.

"Ship blows up."

"..._Oh_."

* * *

"Grandma, I'm fine. I just called to see how you were doing," Rachel said patiently to her fussy grandmother.

"Oh, I'm fine, dearie, don' you go worryin' about me. Fit as an ox," the old woman said; her accent was just present enough to pronounce her ancient Scottish roots--if the fiery red hair didn't tip off everyone, first.

"And granddad?"

Her grandmother laughed, "The same as always, sleeping half the day away."

"Bah," a grumpy, dislocated voice uttered in a bass tone, "I'm awake, just been a-restin' my eyes, is all."

"Oh, sure ya were..."

As the two bickered for a moment or two, Rachel took the time to smile somewhat exasperatedly. The vid-call was supposed to be relatively short, but she'd been on the com for an hour and a half, now. Her grandmother dealt in antiques and though she wasn't rich, she did not lack the amenities. It was due to her grandmother's business, the one she kept up after her retirement.

"So how's the business?" Rachel asked with a hint of anxious nervousness. This was one of the main reasons she had called.

Deanna Rileigh owned a nice shop that shipped from Aquila Major. Though it was not the only one, Deanna always made sure her items were kept in the best condition and were shipped with the utmost care. However, since the Aquila Banking Trust was hit by cryptoterrorists, cracking into the system and stealing millions of UDs, people were wary about sending their money into or out of the Aquilan System. Some companies were feeling that.

"Well, it's been a bit slow, dearie. People are afraid to be doin' business, what with those com thieves. I'll tell ya, it's worse than bein' mugged; at least those dregs'll brave it in person. This group of delinquents hidin' behind coms, Cyberus or whatever... I hope they catch those three."

Rachel winced slightly, "It's Cerberus, Grandma. And I don't think it was-"

She shook her head, her grandmother was even less com-savvy than Audrey. It would do no good for her to bring up her points let alone argue semantics on which hackers were or were not responsible. Grandma Dee wouldn't see the difference.

"I'm sure things will get better," she said, instead.

Her grandmother smiled on the screen, "Oh, I know. It'll just take some time--most things do."

"Well, I have some homework to do. It was good talking with you again. I'll call you sometime soon, okay? I love you."

"Okay, you take care, dearie."

"Tell Granddad I love him, too. Bye."

"Goodbye, Rachel."

Rachel closed the connection and sat back. She took a deep breath. With her paper finished and her call over, it was time to start the real work...

* * *

The small, cramped ship hovered over the sands of Helion in the late evening. Its slow slide through the air was like a hunting dog slowly canvassing the area near the wide river that ran straight through New Mecca. Five uncomfortably packed people some ten miles out from the metropolis ahead sat inside the sardine can of a spacecraft. It looked and sometimes acted rickety, but it was reliable when it counted.

"Yo, boss. Ain't nothin' here," said a tubby man who was likely as much of a pig in hygiene as he was in personality.

Said boss was reclining in the back of the tiny jumper, his curly hair in careless disarray. He had obscenely large sideburns and a goatee, both carefully and neatly cropped. His long face held a confident, if somewhat ominous, smirk. With his hands behind his head, he responded without opening his eyes.

"Turn on yer scanners, dipshits. Jumpers don't fuckin' vanish."

Reis switched on the various scanners to zero in on their quarry. After a few moments, Terry Chen, the pilot, angled the ship to hover over the coordinates dictated by the locator beacon's signal; it led them farther from the shore and over the river. Finally, the fields provided a visual read, piercing through the waters and showing the riverbed on the monitor.

Reis stared at the screen for a moment, then sat back in his chair, "Toombs. You wanna see this."

Almost reluctantly, Toombs sat forward to look at the screen. What he saw was an electromagnetic radiograph showing the obvious outline of his hijacked ship from the sixth planet in the U.V. System. His brows rose.

"Well, shit. The bastard actually ditched it in the fuckin' river..."

Eve sighed, taking in the image of the half-swallowed ship, "Charming. How do we know he's still here?"

"Gut feelin', Logan," Toombs answered easily, "He couldn't have made it here faster 'n' two weeks by my old ship. New Mecca's high profile--and the majority of it ain't a shit-hole. And it's too sunny for old Bright-Eyes. Doesn't add up. Merc-killing pieces of shit like him wouldn't come here unless he had a real good reason. I'm bettin' he's still here takin' care o' business.

"C'mon boys 'n' girls, let's set down and set out."

Terry swung the ship around and headed for the New Meccan Port.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

The first look into Jack's past. This was a major piece for me. I needed to get the correct mood conveyed for her past--which I tried to do through the imagery of the dreary Daedalus Station. I hope I succeeded.

Some girl-talk, here... thank God for the K-monster for the help. I've no idea how this sort of thing really goes. Though with most of my classes at this time consisting of mostly girls, I'm finding I was closer to the mark than I realized. Heh...

In addition, Toombs makes his debut! Yes, the ditched jumper was the same one we see in the start of TCoR. Unlike TCoR, I've decided to give the mercs with Toombs more personality; they're not just some mercs, they've their own ambitions, feelings, fears, and all that.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	5. 5: Beguiler

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 5: Beguiler_

Inside a large, half-circle-shaped room, several rows of chairs seated operators at an array of coms and cutting-edge electronic equipment. Upon the curved wall was a massive screen. From a balcony above, a highly decorated Lieutenant General scowled down over the console and various monitors at the men and women who were supposed to be the best technical minds. This was all part of the Department of Defense, labeled the Sentry Sector.

And yet, the magnum opus project of these great minds had been stolen two years ago. Two years spent tracking and tracing the steps, only to find that they had been chasing a phantom and that the diversion had allowed the culprit to wipe the real tracks. It was a major blow to the Sector and the Department was none too pleased, to say the least. The project, a program named "Sentinel," was supposed to be a learning AI developed for the sole purpose of using its networking and database abilities to find and use information. The information it reaped it could utilize in a number of ways; all it needed was a director or operator to tell it what its purpose was. The Sentinel program, however, has been and remained inoperative since its coding--still in a beta stage. In those two years, several think tanks poured over the source in an attempt to find the error. Unfortunately, none of them found anything conclusive.

Worse than that, they were now incapable of apprehending a dangerous triad of hackers after a major grand larceny. Sentinel would have been a great asset to them for this newest threat: Cerberus. The three hackers slipped through system defenses like a fish through water. The fact that it happened was infuriating to the higher-ups and, as if rubbing salt in a wound, no one could catch them! These three hackers, working like a well-oiled machine, could not be trapped or held. While one attacked, another defended, while the third ran interference as needed. Cerberus covered its own ass and there didn't seem to be a chink in their armor. That meant there was no hope of reacquiring the stolen UDs from the Aquilan Banking Trust in the foreseeable future.

"Where do we stand today, Director?" asked Lt. Gen. Greco.

Antony Greco was a tall man, starkly imposing at times, and with no lack for muscular definition. Antony had shortly-cropped, but wiry hair that, given the chance, would have easily curled into haphazard fashions most would consider a nightmare. He had started as the communications officer during the Wailing Wars. However, the squads started dropping like flies and his own commanding officer had died. He had been the one to take the squad's pilot, practically commandeer a drop-ship, and go planet-side to pick up those left of his squad. He'd earned a few honors for that particularly stupid stunt... but he'd miraculously survived. He had risen through the ranks, time eventually began to taking its toll, and Antony took a desk job with his old hobby. Aside from communications, he'd always been one to tinker with the technical aspects of coms.

And here he was, quite sure he would soon be stripped of his various decorations and position if he didn't find something--_anything_--to remedy the past two years of blunders.

"We still haven't seen any significant deposits, but it's possible that there are several accounts with small deposits. If Cerberus was smart, they wouldn't have been done simultaneously or in any specific pattern." The Director paused, raking a hand through his hair. The General wasn't the only one feeling for their job security. "I'm... reluctant to admit it, but unless there's some breakthrough or we capture Cerberus, there may be no recovery of the stolen money."

"Damnit! We can't sit around with out thumbs up our asses, these people's accounts have been ransacked and they're living on crumbs."

The bank could not pay proper restitution; the Trust itself was falling apart over this catastrophe. Lieutenant General Greco leaned against the railing and let out a heavy sigh. As he looked out across the numerous coms and their operators, he had to wonder: How could any hacker have outsmarted this many people? When a single person had slipped in and copied Sentinel two years ago, it had been a disaster. When the three hackers decided to gallivant through cyberspace doing as they please, it was all he could do to assure his superiors that this would not happen... again. The Alliance did not take lightly to failure and this was adding up to be a big one.

Suddenly, caution lights set high around the walls turned on, bathing the small room in an amber glow. Then everyone began to madly scramble, setting up defense perimeters and checking firewalls. Unfortunately, their security had already been compromised--again. It took a few moments for them to find the point of entry and try to isolate the person or persons that had breached defenses. Isolating the hacker or hackers, however, was proving nigh impossible.

Every monitor blanked for a few seconds. Moments later, their screens returned, but a new executable had been started. The team of technical gurus tried to end the task, but the opposition was viciously protecting it. The executable was a small, white window; it was blank, but there was a text-cursor blinking.

A line of text slipped across the top of the document window.

#We wish to communicate with the head of this agency. Your records show that person is Lieutenant General Antony Greco.#

This caused a riot of shouted commands to volley back and forth. Pandemonium broke out as they realized the hackers had managed to crack the security around their personnel files and rosters.

"Sir, we can't isolate them!" said one operator.

Another cried out, almost frantically, "They've reached the central hub!"

"Sir! They've... they've stopped."

#We now have access to your hub,# echoed a line of text, #Give us conference with Lieutenant General Antony Greco.#

Finally, the Director took a console himself to reply in the text window, #This is the Director of Sentry Sector. Identify yourself.#

There was a short pause, then a reply, #We are the Ternion Sentinel at the Gates of Hades: Cerberus.#

More chaos ensued at the statement. Antony could feel his stomach drop to his knees. This had to be the worst possible thing that could happen. The room was buzzing with activity, but the main screen displaying technical jargon and schematics of their network showed no change. Whoever was fielding this was defending with an expertise no one had ever dreamed of possessing.

The Director paused, and then replied with a confidence in his text that he was not personally experiencing, #You are charged with Grand Larceny, Cryptoterrorism, and System Hacking. You are in a restricted territory. Cease activity and surrender.#

#We did not ask to speak with you, Director. We are locking your V-ID from the coms. Perhaps our instructions were not clear. We would prefer to speak to another hacker; they may be more receptive.#

The Director cursed as his screen blanked to the log-on screen. He immediately typed in his ident and password, but nothing happened.

"Shit!"

Sighing, Antony took a seat and cautiously logged in. After a deep breath, he replied. In spite of taking over their hub, Cerberus had not yet tampered with any files. It seemed like now was a time to negotiate--they had the Sentry Sector by the balls and seemed to know it. That didn't mean he was simply going to roll over, however.

#This is Lt. Gen. Greco. The Sentry Sector has no hackers. What is your purpose?#

There was a pause, then Cerberus entered a few lines of text, #Hello, Lt. Gen. We are here to inform you of a mistake you have made and to give you a word of advice... an important word of advice.#

#Why should we listen?# Greco asked. It was a gamble, risking pissing off Cerberus when they had the hub under their heel, but he was confident it would yield results.

This time, the pause was longer, but the message was significantly longer, #Because it is rare that a hacker imparts information, much less in person. Another hacker would understand this. By the way, we refuse to believe that the Sentry Sector does not have hackers in its employ. Your goal--unattainable as it is--is to eliminate hackers; the best way to catch a hacker is with another hacker.

You, Lt. Gen. Greco, are not likely to heed our words or interpret them correctly. We wish to speak with a fellow hacker; one hopefully not too blinded by the Alliance's ambition. Cerberus will wait five minutes for you to provide one. If you do not comply, we will disable your hub and leave. Then we will go to the press and publicly post our message. It is your choice.#

There were panicked murmurs as the rest of the room watched the large screen scroll the text. Disabling the hub would be a deathblow to their Sector. Their records would show these marks of failure and the Department would likely discharge them.

A minute passed and Colonel Torvald Mjollnir's lips thinned. No one seemed to be doing anything! Antony--who he had known as part of the communications group before and after the Wailing Wars--was sitting there, chin resting on his clasped hands, at the console with that contemplative expression he always wore when they played chess.

It was a surprise to find that Antony had come to the Sentry Sector. He supposed the man had seen enough action. Torvald had never been the action type, preferring to sit at a distance and wreak havoc with his com skills. The look on the General's face was not reassuring--that one that said "now what?" every time he was placed in check.

...Four minutes left. With a sigh, he slid his chair back. The scraping sound as it moved across the floor was unnaturally loud in the semi-circle room and everyone's eyes turned to him.

'_Here's hoping things didn't go to shit._'

"Sir. Let me talk to them."

"Torvald, what are you thinking?" Greco said, omitting rank from his mind for the moment. He was wary of his friend at the moment. After all, the man was a master at chess and whenever he got that glint in his light, cloudy-grey eyes... well, it usually meant something that couldn't be categorized as "good" in many senses of the word was going to happen.

"I've dealt with this type of person, before. There's a certain... etiquette they follow and mannerisms common to hackers."

Three minutes remaining. The seconds ticked by and the room became abuzz with tension. Finally, Antony nodded. Torvald jumped into his seat and his hands flew across the keys.

"I want all systems locked down--yes, purposefully. I don't want to be interrupted. And lastly, no one does _anything_ without me telling them to do it!"

Sweeping some of his chin-length hair out of his eyes, he sat down, leaning forward while madly accessing various programs and protocols. He turned off several of the protocols that were unnecessary and disabled some of the programs that restricted certain commands.

"What are you doing?" the man beside him asked wildly.

Torvald all but bellowed back, "_Shut up_! And turn off the automation unit; it will only slow me down."

And then he went on the offense... Almost immediately, with only seconds on the countdown, a string of text appeared.

#You're good. You keep managing to query my com's V-ID.#

"Check," said Torvald with a small smile that carried no mirth. Instead he replied quickly to the text, #Thank you. You, too. Your V-ID reflects my com's ident every time it queries yours.#

A reply came back in seconds, #We know. I wonder how you are bypassing our vanguard.#

The colonel's brows rose; they were good if they detected his entry via the vanguard. Most people worried about covering the backdoors that the front door could be approached and quietly coaxed wide open. It was a dirty trick that wasn't taught in Alliance tech. classes.

He typed a response, his attack only pausing for the quick entry, #I specialize in slipping past guards.#

#I see,# said the Cerberus hacker, #You are certainly making us work. We should have expected as much from a fellow hacker.#

#How do you know I'm the hacker you requested?#

#By what you're trying. Those by-the-book Alliance techies couldn't crack an egg. But you're beyond the run-of-the-mill hacker, aren't you? The last few things you tried aren't novice or even intermediate techniques. You're on _The List_, aren't you?#

'_Fuck,_' Torvald thought as the people watched the screen fill with text and some quiet whispers arose.

'The List,' as it was known, was a compiled list of all known hackers that had made it to the big-time. There were three requirements to make The List: a well-established record of cyber-crimes, the hacker had to be uncaught in all crimes, and there had to be a reward for capture. To be on The List was to have a price on your head.

After a few moments of his silence, he decided on a non-answer answer, #...#

#You are! I knew it. Who are you?#

He clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing and darkening. Instead of answering, he tried to get to the point, #You didn't find your way into our systems for idle chat. What do you want?#

The reply was quick and stubborn, #I'll get to that after we know who you are.#

Taking a deep breath, Mjollnir forged ahead, '_Looks like the cat's out of the bag..._'

#It's the friendly ghost.#

The result was a long pause in the text string. Finally, text appeared. It felt like a nail in a coffin; for his career, his life, or both... he didn't know.

#The friendly... C4sper? _The_ C4sper--of the Riddlers?#

He was steadily typing, refusing to give up on his countermeasures even with the suddenly gossipy mutterings broke through his attention.

"I can't concentrate and I said I didn't want to be interrupted, so I would appreciate it if you would all please _shut up_!"

He could feel Antony's eyes distractingly boring into the back of his head, but he couldn't afford to take his eyes off the com.

#Formerly... of the Riddlers.#

#Hi C4sper!#

Finally, he assembled one of his favorite, easily-compiled, but devilishly slippery programs. He had memorized the code, so he could quickly type and export it to an executable. It was a worm by definition, but it had a few extra facets to it that helped it bypass security.

#Hello... So, you're of Cerberus.#

The reply came fast and appeared unusually jovial for the seriousness of the moment he was feeling. The entire situation took on a surreal sensation to it.

#Yes, I am Aeacus of Cerberus. I remember when you paused the Stock Trade for half an hour to scroll your riddle! :) Do you remember?#

#...#

Honestly, what was he supposed to say? He was too busy wincing and trying to ignore the glares aimed in his direction. Yes, he was quite sure he would have more than enough people to chew him out by the end of this... if he survived. Technically, this could end him in Slam.

Aeacus continued, filling several lines of text with something he hadn't thought about for years.

#This thing all things devours,

Birds, beasts, trees, flowers,

Gnaws Iron, Bites Steel,

Grinds hard stones into meal,

Slays king, ruins town,

And brings high mountain down.#

Torvald's response was sharp and short, punctuated in italics, #_That is in the past._#

#Past, present, future...# the text appeared, #I know the answer to your riddle: Time.#

He had to forcefully unclench his jaw because his teeth were hurting from all the grinding, #I'm putting my neck on the line exposing myself like this. What do you want?#

#Once a hacker, always a hacker. That never changed, C4sper, you merely work from a different angle, now. Do you remember the first and second Laws?#

Becoming exasperated, the Colonel ran a hand through his hair before responding. Meanwhile, he sent a tracer out only to have it almost immediately parried. Damn, they were good...

#...Where are you going with this?#

#**Do you remember?**# the petulant reiteration came back in bold.

Eyes narrowing into a glare, he conceded,

#1. A hacker's anonymity is absolute; there are no identities.

2. A hacker's alias is sacrosanct.

...Why is this important?#

Aeacus' reply was swift, #Someone has violated our second Law.#

Suddenly, a massive breakthrough occurred. Torvald simply couldn't put all the pieces to the puzzle together. The whole reason for this hacking, and possibly more, had just been revealed. What was he missing? Someone had used Cerberus' alias... And now they were notifying the Alliance. Why? And more importantly...

#Who?#

#That is what we wish to know.# The answer came immediately, as Aeacus had likely anticipated the question, #Someone assumed Cerberus' title, even going as far as using our signature.#

Someone used Cerberus signature? All of Cerberus' discovered calling cards had been logged. Which one didn't fit with the profile they had built of the hackers? And then it all clicked.

#Are you talking about what I think you are?#

#Yes. Aquilan Banking Trust. That is not our doing...#

Mjollnir could almost feel Aeacus anger--in the hacker society, something like that just wasn't done. You did not use someone else's alias simply to cover your own ass. Still, he couldn't let his personal feelings--as a hacker or a person--interfere with his job. The moment he forgot that he worked for the Sentry Sector was the moment he invited himself to the nearest Slam.

#What did you hope to gain by telling us this?#

There was a short pause, and he could almost feel the contemplation, the weighing of words and phrasing. A couple seconds later, Aeacus replied, #We gain nothing. You, however, receive a warning.#

#A _warning_?# Torvald typed, his voice echoing it in a confused tone.

By now, he had all but stopped trying to isolate Cerberus. It didn't seem to be of any use and they weren't attacking; though he was quite certain they were quite ready for an attack should he try it. He didn't push his luck.

#Cerberus is searching for this upstart _puppy_. It is not advised that you try to stop us. We are not unjust, but I speak for Minos and Rhadamanthus in this: when laws are broken, penalties must be exacted. It is our consensus that we should turn the fool over to you with any relevant information we discover...#

Incredulously, he took in the text for all of three seconds. Belatedly, he decided that he should reply, #Are you offering help?#

Aeacus' answer was, perhaps, more apathetic than benevolent, #You may view it however you wish. But if you try to come between us and our quarry, we will not hesitate to remove any obstacles in our path.#

#What does Cerberus get out of this?# Torvald asked.

As the hacker known as C4sper awaited the answer, which took a bit longer in arriving than he felt it should, he was aware that the others were paying rapt attention to the screen--and to his answers. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

#Without trying to sound pompous, Cerberus is aware of its rather... distinguished status. Cerberus is not, however, malicious. It is not interested in destructive recreation. This disgraceful act of thievery is beneath us. By ousting this pathetic imposter, Cerberus' honor will be restored.#

"So that's what it is..." Torvald muttered, then typed, #I understand. You are aware that I now work for the Alliance? It is my job to stop Cerberus and others like you.#

There was a short gap of time, the but return was lengthier, #We know this and respect it. Cerberus will continue along its path and we are bound to meet again, most likely on less amiable circumstances. However, we do hope this does not come between us, personally. After all, Minos, Rhadamanthus, and I look up to the Riddlers, C4sper; they were quite an inspiration--especially you and Sphinx.#

Mjollnir was brought back to a time when the Riddlers, including himself, used cyberspace as their personal playground, posting their enigmas here and there. The Riddlers' 'entrance exam' consisted of posting a riddle in a place where it would easily be seen, leaving one's calling card to announce oneself to the world as one of the elite. The Riddlers were all about being a step ahead, evading capture, and out-thinking the opposition. Sphinx was the best. Even among other hackers, he was a little bit more eccentric. Just talking to him exercised the brain. It was like playing a chess game. Naturally, C4sper and Sphinx got on quite well.

As C4sper, he had really struck gold with his riddle on the stock exchange. At the time, he'd thought it was a brilliant move. But now that he was part of the very people that wanted C4sper and they knew who he was--and that he was physically among them... well, it didn't seem like such a kick-ass idea, anymore.

#You spoke to Sphinx?#

"Torvald," Greco's voice came from directly behind him, making the ex-hacker jump, "this small-talk is getting us nowhere."

#I am not sure if I could call it a _conversation_. He does speak in riddles, after all...#

"Wrong. This is how hackers converse, Tony. It's cautious; you give a little and you get a little. You have to learn to pick out the vital information from the fluff..."

#Yes, I am well aware.#

He then continued to explain, "We know Cerberus did not crack the bank, we know Cerberus is hunting the true criminal. We know that they also have been hackers long enough to have discovered myself and Sphinx; C4sper and Sphinx aren't aliases that are brought up around greenies. If they're good enough, they'll discover our work. Obviously Cerberus has found Sphinx's work... And I know that Sphinx doesn't talk to someone unless he finds them fascinating--so I know Aeacus isn't just brainy, but intellectual as well. That's more profile on Cerberus than we ever had before. The more hackers talk to each other, the more we learn about one another... to a point."

The response came while he was explaining, but luckily, he could multitask.

#Gavin was more straight forward... We really miss our talks--and those skulls he left behind,# Cerberus sent.

#_Gavin_?# Torvald exclaimed textually and verbally, #_Gavin D. Ferrel_?#

And uprising of conversation arose at the mere name. Even Torvald had to sit back and run a hand through his hair. Cerberus was new to the scene... how could they have run into such big names in just two years?

"Shit, he was the number one cryptoterrorist... Where the Hell did Cerberus meet with Gavin?"

#Yes, we read they took him to Crematoria...#

Antony was less than thrilled with the new information, "It took us twenty years to catch that bastard... and that information is-"

He saw that Torvald was on it already, however, #That information is highly classified.#

#...#

The image of crossed arms and a 'don't-be-stupid' stare was almost blatant in that silent response.

#Right, never mind,# C4sper typed, and then sat back heavily in his seat, fingers still flitting across the keys, "We're fucked if we ever piss off Cerberus..."

The man sitting beside him made a noise of negation. Torvald didn't yet know his name because he was new, and it was becoming painfully obvious that the kid probably shouldn't be here.

The man began talking, slowly whittling down Mjollnir's concentration, "That's not true, we can-"

"In case you haven't noticed," Torvald tersely cut in, "Cerberus is sitting pretty in our _hub_, they have us by the balls, and they know it. Nothing I do--any of us do--will do anything more than amuse them. This is all nice-talk and hoping we don't provoke Cerberus into attacking. They could scrap our entire database on a _whim_.

"If you have any, _any_ bright ideas I am all ears. Otherwise, sit down and shut the fuck up. If the DoD doesn't have our asses for this, we might just survive the encounter."

And then the ex-hacker growled to himself, noticing new text on the screen, "I've never seen anything like this in my entire fucking life! Nothing is working. Nothing! I've prodded every nook and cranny of defense; _nobody_ covers everything..."

#Do you think we should use a logo? Gavin's skulls were kind of cute.#

He paused, mid-keystroke, then quickly reminded himself to resume. Raising a brow in a high arch, he speculated, "Unless I'm off my mark... Aeacus is female..."

Torvald, just to continue keep Aeacus talking, sent, #Your calling card is well established. No need to change it.#

There was a very long pause and he--and others--began worrying that he had finally said the wrong thing. After almost a minute of silence, Aeacus came back with a reply.

#Maybe you're right. :) By the way, you are very, very good... You've managed to keep me on my toes, but Minos and Rhadamanthus have isolated your Wyrm when it attempted access to one of the backdoor channels. We reversed it and sent it back to you with self-spawning duplicates. It's not so much a Wyrm now as a Hydra. ;)#

"Ah, shit!" exclaimed Mjollnir, "Shit, shit, shit! You," he pointed to one of the senior members of the Sentry, "log in, and create a quarantine area, unspecified size! Make it now--anywhere, I don't care where. My worm works fast, and that's gonna rip through our systems like a wildfire!"

Surprisingly, more text appeared, #You can stop it by typing in my mother's name in capital letters.#

He almost stopped typing, incredulously staring at the line of text before responding, #You gave me a fix?#

#We told you, Cerberus is not malicious. The Hydra will only slow your computer's response time while active. Once you've entered the key, it activates an auto-delete. It should take just long enough for us to take our leave. We'll be seeing you around, C4sper. :)#

Suddenly, every monitor blanked. With their coms rendered inoperable, the room nearly flew into panic. In giant, bold letters, every screen displayed:

**The Ternion Sentinel at the Gates of Hades,**

**Cerberus**

"I want everyone on that--search for the name!" Lt. Gen. Greco bellowed, bringing order to the chaos.

"How do we know whose mother to search for?" someone said.

Torvald shook his head, "The alias. There are no identities--we're not looking for a real mother. Aeacus is mythology. Search for Aeacus's mother's name!"

Without the use of the coms, it took them slightly longer than usual--but eventually someone found it.

"Aegina! A-E-G-I-N-A."

Torvald practically whipped the keys with his fingers as the person called them out. Like a passing storm giving way to sunlight, the yellow caution lights turned off and the screens returned to their normal settings. There was no trace of Cerberus on the hub, nor was there any sign of the Hydra that had been tearing through their network.

Sitting back and rubbing his face, Torvald ignored the various whispers around him, instead trying to settle his frayed nerves. On the heels of having survived that, the usual, thrilling high of another encounter was not present. It was an odd feeling. In its place, there was a pit that resided somewhere in his stomach, one that had much to do with the uncertainty of his future now that his past as C4sper had been revealed.

* * *

Riddick had announced that he would be turning up the heat on her training. Over the next week and a half, he had begun showing her techniques from systems of various martial arts. He had left it up to her to compile what worked best for her and assimilate it into her own style. The larger part of the training, however, was mental. In addition to the meditation every morning and before training, he was slowly explaining anatomy and physiology to her.

She knew that she could hit certain places--common places, but he was swiftly improving her list. Riddick wasn't just showing her where to strike; he was explaining what she was attacking, what it did, and what happened when she attacked it. With this greater understanding, he was slowly improving her skill. As he explained muscles, bones, blood vessels, nerves, and pressure points... Jack began to understand how the body worked.

That didn't mean it was easy, though.

"There's no way I'm going to remember all that. I'm not even sure any of that was English Standard," Jack complained.

"That's because some of it wasn't. Some of it was Latin."

She let out an exasperated sigh. Arguing would get her nowhere. At home, big words threatened to implode her skull. At school, it was wooden stubs and sticks standing in for various weapons; he would have her hold them and would show her how to do it, allow her body to feel the effects of the technique--of what and how it happened. Then he would walk her through the steps of performing the sequence, herself.

Ancient and new-age arts merged. There seemed to be a focus on Eskrima, Jeet Kune Do, Muay Thai, and Shooto... Riddick didn't often tell her which was which. Jack figured it was so she wouldn't categorize and stick to one style. They worked with weapons as much as without, and she could never really say whether or not the next day would be an all-weapons, all-melee, or mixed day.

On top of all this, he was constantly cramming her head with technical and mechanical information on ships and piloting. She collapsed on her bed at the end of most days, mind full but happy. How she was managing to retain all this, she had no idea. There were times when she thought she would go insane, but usually that went away after a good night's sleep and some time to assimilate everything she'd been told.

She went to bed, allowing her thoughts of the day to unwind and her mind to wander to other, less important things.

* * *

It was Friday. Today, Riddick brought a large duffle bag with him. Jack had no idea what was inside it, but he had walked over to the punching bag and unhooked it... She couldn't weasel the contents of the bag out of him. Instead, she found herself doing ungodly amounts of curls, push-ups, pull-ups, and all manner of things she thought she did regularly. Apparently, the Richard B. Riddick definition of regular was 'grueling.'

She went through the exercises and, a few times, asked what was in the bag. Riddick would only smirk and tell her "You'll see." Just when she thought her curiosity would drive her to total distraction, he told her to stop. She dropped from the bar where she was performing chin-ups and moved with him over to the empty punching bag suspension hook. He dragged the duffel bag over with him.

"Gonna tell me what's in there, now?"

Riddick replied with a straight face, "A body."

She glowered at him, "I'm serious! Why'd you--holy shit!"

She looked at the crumpled, humanoid figure contorted and folded up inside the large bag. For half a second, she really thought he had killed someone and stuffed them inside the bag. Then she realized it wasn't alive--rather, it was never alive. It was a dummy. There was a ring on the top of its head and he yanked it out, clipping the ring into the punching bag's suspension hook.

The dummy was white in color, but the entire body was covered in bright red lines, curves, dots, and ovals. It was androgynous, but otherwise very lifelike. She looked it over.

Finally, it all clicked.

"These are 'sweet spots?'"

"Exactly."

Riddick proceeded to repeat the anatomy/physiology lesson quickly, but this time with the visual aid. Lots of pointing and a few questions later, he pulled out a dull, flat piece of wood with a handle. It almost looked like a small spatula. He handed it to her. She knew it was supposed to represent a weapon, but she looked at it skeptically.

"We're going to cook them Omelets of Death?"

He couldn't help but laugh at that, but shook his head, "Nope. But a real shiv is impractical... and I don't want you destroying my training equipment. Now, here's what I want you to do..."

* * *

Zimmy observed Audrey and Mr. Phoebus. He certainly put her through her paces--pushing the girl harder than she felt might have been necessary. Then again, the girl didn't really complain; almost seemed happy to be receiving the tutelage. Audrey was an unusual girl...

She turned back to address the game of dodge ball. Zimmy spared another glance when she heard Mr. Phoebus laugh. She saw a dummy hanging on the punching bag suspender and frowned... she knew what kind of dummy that was. Then Mr. Phoebus handed Audrey what looked to be a practice tool and made some motions.

Mrs. Zimmerman edged backward and stopped when she could speak without having to raise her voice. She turned slightly to the side so she could keep an eye on the other girls. This was getting out of hand...

"-you take them down, keep a hold of the arm and aim for this spot. Once you strike it, toss it out of the way--that arm's not a problem, anymore; it won't be moving. That leaves you free to the side. So strike like this: one..."

He stopped, looking up at her as if prompting. After a beat of silence, she responded, "Spleen."

Riddick did not respond, but he moved on, "...two..."

This time, she answered quicker, more sure of herself, "Lung."

"...and three," Riddick said, moving higher up the body.

Jack's answer didn't come immediately. She stood there, raking her brain for a few moments, "That could hit more than just one. I mean, at the very least you'd hit the common carotid, the trachea, and probably the esophagus... I can't tell which you-"

Riddick grinned--she _did_ remember, "You're right. Technically, as long as you strike that zone, you're guaranteed to hit something."

"Oh."

"This is quick and more than a little messy... but it's no good in groups. One-on-one only, kid." He paused, unhooked the dummy, and laid it on the ground. Riddick handed her one of its arms. "You've just taken him down. Start practicing."

He turned around to face Zimmy, who was looking at them with what looked like a cross between shock and anger, "Somethin' I can help you with?"

"What the Hell are you _teaching_ her? Those aren't-" and then she paused to point at the dummy, "This _isn't_ a self-defense lesson."

He didn't answer immediately, and merely crossed his arms instead. It infuriated her the way he tilted his head slightly to the left and looked at her as if she were a kitten doing something cute, but ultimately stupid. She still couldn't see his eyes for the welding goggles and there might have been a ghost of a smirk, but that could have been a trick of the light.

"Never said I was teaching self-defense."

Jack glanced over her shoulder, "Does it matter which lung?"

"No," he replied.

Mustering her finite tolerance for the sake of her students, she drew herself into a commanding tone. Mrs. Zimmerman did, however, try to keep the volume down--their voices did seem to carry inside the gymnasium.

"I don't want my students seeing this type of thing."

Riddick replied with a collected calm that was alternately admirable and irritating, "Then you should be keeping a better eye on them."

"You know that once you drill this into her, it can't be trained out," Zimmy said sharply, "Is that what she wants? At this rate, she's going to wind up with blood on her hands sooner or later."

Jack paused from her repetitive stabbing, "How about asking Audrey? I'm pretty sure she's okay with it."

The coach shot her a glare that cut deep, "Don't give me lip girl."

The woman had used the 'Serg Voice.' When she had drilled her squads in that voice, they listened. Years of the military life had reamed it into their skulls--that voice might as well have been the voice of God. Riddick had used the voice a few times on Jack and it had the same effect. Like a good soldier, she fell instantly silent, focusing on her drill. Zimmy couldn't figure out if that obedience in someone so young satisfied or disturbed her.

"What's going on in your head, Mr. Phoebus? You want to make her into a killer?" she demanded more than asked, making sure her voice was carefully just under audible range of her students.

Jack paused mid-stab, biting her lip a bit, '_He can't do that. I already am one..._'

The other girls were still moving. Since Zimmy was only half turned away from them, they knew not to stop, but the game of dodge ball was quickly closing because the ball hit the ones paying more attention to the conversation.

"She's not a soldier, she's a student," the woman went on, "What you're teaching her is completely inappropriate."

Jack couldn't hold her tongue anymore and bit out angrily, "What's inappropriate is having to walk down a street at night, wondering if you're going to turn a corner and wind up a gang-raped corpse dumped in an alley. That's _not_ going to be me."

She might have said more; it was very clear she had more to say. But once she realized what she was saying, she clamped her mouth and that ire that had risen within her squelched. Suddenly, Fiery Jack disappeared and Docile Audrey took her place. Unfortunately, Docile Audrey didn't quite fit stabbing a dummy.

'_Like I'll just roll over and play the helpless victim. I'd rather piss glass..._' she mentally growled.

Seeing her approach wasn't quite working, Zimmy decided to take another route. After all, this was still _her_ class. While she had agreed to let Mr. Phoebus instruct Audrey, she did have a say with what happened while she was still in charge of the gym.

"Audrey, it's still disruptive to have this sort of thing in class."

The blaze returned to Jack's eyes, "Disruptive my-"

Riddick cut in, "We'll leave the... graphic things for later."

He was aware that some minor compromise might have to be made. He was certain Jack would likely argue until she was blue in the face and Zimmy didn't look like one to take no for an answer... at least, not in this case. He could almost see that battle of wills playing out. Riddick made sure with a pointed look that Jack stayed quiet.

Not quite expecting such an abrupt end, Mrs. Zimmerman had to force the tension from her voice, "Well... good."

Then she turned back around to the girls just in time to see Cassandra plant the ball upside Rachel's head. With a loud squeak, the girl jumped and staggered back--nearly falling over her own feet--as the spongy ball they were using bounced off her skull.

* * *

The rest of the class went smoothly, with Riddick showing her a few more techniques to disarm or incapacitate. Most of the things they covered that day were holds, throws, or joint locks. Although he did show her a fun hold that allowed her to make someone stab themselves with their own shivs.

Riddick also began focusing her attacks in a way she hadn't considered. Instead of blocking an attack, he told her to focus on parrying and counterattacking. He told her not to worry about the weapons so much as the attack and its angle. Looking at the angle of the attack, she could intercept their attack without having to waste time blocking.

It was simple, in theory. If he came at her with a fist, knife, or sword, then she should attack the back of the hand, wrist, forearm, or elbow; kicks would be countered by strikes to the ankle, shin, or knee; and so on...

They tumbled back and forth for a while. He would come at her with the wooden shiv and she would use one of the techniques to wrest it from him. Next, she would attack and he would somehow take it from her in a new way. Then she would try to emulate what he had done. They grappled back and forth and the fake shiv rarely stayed in either one's possession for more than a few seconds. It was intensive, but ultimately fun. Soon she wasn't even thinking about it; just reacting--like a hypnotic game. The remaining twenty minutes were spent in this fashion.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Finally, Cerberus rears its heads! I'd been plotting this for quite some time and I was thrilled to finally reach this part. I had all the dialogue and such prepared in my head days, maybe even a few weeks before I ever reached it. Here we also meet Antony and Torvald (a.k.a. C4sper). Never fear, we'll hear more from them in the future.

It seems like quite a departure, I'm sure, but you'll just have to wait to see how the different elements of the story mesh together to form the big picture. I've the story planned out quite a long ways into the future, and more and more elements will make their way into the story as we go along.

I've tried to keep it from being too confusing without being too obvious about it, either. Some of you may already have guessed at some of these elements, but the story isn't the rushed type. There are scenes vital to the storyline, scenes I really wanted in there, and then the 'fluff' as I call it--the not-quite-necessary-but-what-the-hell stuff that happens between the meaty parts of the story.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	6. 6: Buying, Rumbling, Betting, Grumbling

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 6: Buying, Rumbling, Betting, Grumbling_

In spite of all the abnormal things happening of late, Rachel continued to go about her life. The dance was tomorrow and the teachers hadn't assigned any homework tonight so everyone could attend. So that meant she had some last-minute, Friday-night shopping to do. Over the course of the week, she had acquired her dress and shoes.

Rachel's dress was simple, but striking; it was made from cotton and the navy blue complimented her dark-red hair. It was cut with a wide 'V' that came to a rounding end at the small of her back. The V-neck went down just far enough to be flattering while maintaining modesty. The A-line cut skirt came to her knees and allowed her free movement without flaring out from her hips or hugging them too closely. It had a styled silk sash to go with it, which she had tied and set the elegant bow slightly to the left.

It came from a shipment from Helion 3, a largely summer-time planet known for its high-class tourist attractions and accommodations. Helion 3 was home to the three major resort cities in Helion: New Spain, New France, and New Italy.

Her shoes, she had insisted, be comfortable. Typically, she liked flat or short-heeled shoes. So when she'd come across the midnight blue sling-back pumps, Rachel had pounced on them. Not only where they practical and comfortable, but the price was murderously low. She felt lucky to have snatched them when she did.

Her mother had given her some small, glass teardrop earrings as a birthday present some years ago that she was planning to wear to the dance. They accented her steel, grey-blue eyes. They were, like the rest of her ensemble, simple and reflected light into tiny rainbows.

A few days ago, she had gone out looking for something to match the earrings. After a bit of searching, she found an inelaborate, silver necklace with a series of alternating medium and small glass teardrops on either side of the neck, each separated by tiny glass orbs. It fell to just above the clavicle, with a space for something--likely one of the many charms or gems she saw in the store--to rest in the hollow of her throat.

She'd chosen a silver charm of a stylized wolf, legs far stretched in mid-run. It utilized an artistic form of negative space and gleamed perfectly at the end of the necklace. When put on the necklace, it made her imagine that each glass bit was a drop of rain and the wolf was running through the rainstorm.

When she'd asked for the necklace and the wolf charm, they had told her to come back in a couple of days. Finally, after her meal with Audrey and Cassie at _Le Rayon de Soleil_, she'd headed back to the market to pick up her order. Rachel paid for her purchase and left the store with the small bag with the velvet jewelry box inside.

Fate seemed to have a surprise in store for her, however, and she abruptly stopped outside the doors of the jewelry shop. There, in front of her, was Rick and Audrey. Audrey was wearing a sports bra under a midriff tank top of a heavy material, a pair of cargo pants, and those familiar boots.

Neither of them seemed to notice her as they headed down their own path. Judging from the direction they came from, she surmised that Audrey was coming back from the docking bay after her piloting lessons. It boggled Rachel's mind how much the girl was taking on; how much Rick pushed her and how Audrey never seemed to break, just kept going farther and farther.

She wondered where they were going tonight--after all, Audrey didn't have homework to do and that was _definitely_ not the way to Mr. Al-Walid's house. Rachel was a curious person. She always had been; wanting to know things and see things that most people didn't. Therefore, it was no surprise that, against her common sense, she decided to follow the two.

* * *

"Keep your chin down and your hands up. Keep your mouth closed and breathe through your nose. And remember to watch the eyes-"

"Rid-... Rick, you've told me that before. It's just a few rounds, right? I should be okay if it's anything like how it was fighting you, right? Don't worry."

Riddick went silent for a moment. He wanted to tell her he wasn't worried, but opted not to say anything. They navigated a few streets, each one becoming less populated and a little darker than the last. Seedier than the last.

Eventually, he directed her down a narrow alley and to a door. There were three or so people standing at it. The door, hung open, echoed with noise. Frenzied voices shouted out and, occasionally, a loud eruption of wordless calls rose up and echoed out the door. He brought them up behind the three men, and slid in behind them. Another man came up behind them.

* * *

Rachel followed them, slowly closing the gap between them as the areas became less familiar and less comforting. She moved toward the alley where Rick and Audrey had disappeared. Suddenly a hand clapped on her shoulder and she jumped.

* * *

Alexis sat in the bar, drinking a cold beer and trying to unwind after a trying week. She wasn't quite buzzed, not yet, but she was definitely feeling warm. Time could change that. She didn't want to totally shit-face herself, but she wanted to feel good by the time she left. Her desires were firmly squashed when she looked out of the window in front of her booth. Outside, she saw a cautious girl walking toward a gap between buildings--she had no business being near a dark alleyway. In fact, she had no business being anywhere close to this part of town in particular.

With a sigh, she stood up, paid her tab, and headed out the door. She knew the girl... she'd been beaned in the head during dodge ball earlier that day. What was her name? Oh... right... Rachel Rileigh.

She moved up behind the girl and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, not exactly caring how she startled Rachel. Alexis spun the girl around and crossed her arms.

"What the Hell are you doing out here?"

"M-Mrs. Zimmerman," the girl squeaked.

Zimmy waved it away with a hand, "Not here. I left that title and 'Coach Zimmy' at the school. Now what are you doing here? You should be at home this late in the day."

"I-I... uh..."

"Well?" she asked with a pointed stare, prompting Rachel.

What could it be? Rachel didn't seem like the kind of girl for underage drinking--not that she could get a drink, she looked far too young. And the girl's grades and dedication to her education didn't jive with the idea that she was a junkie of any sort, so that ruled out drugs.

"I was just, um... following... Audrey," Rachel finished rather lamely, aware of how stupid that sounded.

Alexis groaned. Of course. What else could keep her from a night of happy hour?

"Well, where is the girl?"

The redhead pointed to the alley, "She went down there..."

When Alexis looked down the alley, she saw none other than Mr. Phoebus and Audrey standing in some line. Cursing to herself, she moved down the alley; unsurprisingly, Rachel followed her.

By the time they got in, receiving a few curious glances from the bouncers, Rick and Audrey were at a small booth.

* * *

"We're here to register," Riddick said.

"Your name?" said the teller with a small com-pad.

Jack spoke up firmly, her voice daring him to object, "Kyra."

There was a short pause as the man looked from Riddick to Jack. Of course, he had reservations about it... but if they wanted to risk it, it was up to them. He simply nodded.

"You'll need a sponsor."

"That would be me. Tyler."

"Alright. Kyra and Tyler. You'll have to fight a preliminary round--the fighter at the bottom of the lowest rank. If you win, you'll start at the bottom of the E Rank. There are ten positions per rank and five ranks; E is the lowest and A is the highest. Fights are non-negotiable; you fight or forfeit." The teller rambled the lines by rote, as was customary for any new fighter to hear and agree to them. He continued, "If you lose a challenge to someone below your position, they take your place. If you lose a challenge to someone above you, your position remains the same.

"You can only move up a rank if you are in the top position of your rank. That is, only the first position of a lower rank can challenge the lowest position of the next rank. That means the E-1 position can challenge the D-10 position, and so on.

"Your preliminary round will occur at the first available opening. You are not paid for the preliminary match. All winnings can be held or retrieved at the end of a fight. All matches are to forfeit or unconsciousness. A fight resulting in accidental death of an opponent carries a fine. If you kill your opponent, you will be disqualified from the ring. Understand?"

"Got it," she said straightaway; it was a fairly simple system.

"When your name is called, there's a ladder on either side of the pit."

* * *

With a firm grip on Rachel's arm, Alexis moved toward the railing, squeezing her way through the crowd. She had lost track of Mr. Phoebus and Audrey. When she reached the pit, her anger flared. Two men were beating each other senseless. It was an underground fighting ring!

Eventually, one of the men landed a left cross against the other man's face, who collapsed like a marionette puppet with its strings cut. A din of shouts expressed approval, rising and falling. The man raised his arms high and bellowed a primal roar of his own.

When the noised died down, the unconscious man was carried out a side-door to the pit and the victor climbed out. Everyone looked upward, expectantly. Above a simple screen sat above. Two names, side by side, appeared.

**Kyra (X) Vaughn (E-10)**

* * *

A large man with a shaggy mane of blonde hair all but jumped down into the pit, slapping his chest and holding his fists high. He was wearing combat boots, forest camouflage pants, and no shirt. He was eager to start.

Unimpressed, Jack climbed down the ladder and noticed the sudden quiet as well as a few chuckles. She moved a few steps away from the ladder and put her hands on her hips. There were signs about this man... things that made her cringe. This wasn't a real fighter, not like Riddick. There was a certain... aura... that hung about dangerous people. This man didn't have it.

A bell rang and Jack dropped her arms. Vaughn did nothing but stare at her. It took her a moment before the realized that the fucker was undressing her with his eyes.

"This is a fighting pit, you know... but if you'd rather jack off, go home and stop wasting my time."

Apparently, calling him a wimpy wanker did the trick. Vaughn came at her full force, like some dumb-as-a-rock gorilla. She jerked to the right as he came in with his fist leading. Once she was outside the punch, she grabbed hold of his forearm, and pulled him off balance. Jack sent her left knee into his stomach to counter his forward motion. Dropping his arm, she flicked out her left foot, catching him in the face. Since he was doubled over, it jerked him upright.

As he stood stunned, she took the opportunity to make a full rotation and deliver a spinning kick to his head. Vaughn, already reeling backward, was flattened onto his back, where he remained unconscious.

Honestly, she hadn't thought it would be that quick or easy and she started to appreciate everything Riddick was teaching her. At the same time, she realized that she would have to be careful with all she learned. If this was the average person, she could have killed him six ways from Sunday. It was a sobering thought that came with the sudden silence of the crowd.

"Kyra!" someone yelled down at her.

She turned around, quickly locating Riddick.

"Next fight is up. Out of the pit."

Jack looked over her shoulder at the man who was slowly coming around, shrugged, and moved toward the ladder.

* * *

Rachel was afraid for her friend. However, as the she watched the fight, she couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at watching her friend decisively win her match. She didn't quite understand the notion, but she almost felt... invigorated. The redhead wasn't sure if she was shocked or disgusted with herself--not yet, she was still rather numb about her realization to analyze it.

"I'm going to talk with Mr. Phoebus and Audrey. Stay put," Zimmy ordered.

As soon as Alexis vacated her position, however a large man filled it--and summarily edged her out of the way. She couldn't see the pit anymore. She moved a bit away, putting herself closer to the wall. The next fight was starting, but 'Kyra' wasn't in it... so it wasn't very important to her.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do that?" the teller asked.

In a voice that stamped out any argument, Riddick replied, "She's ready for it."

"You're the sponsor," he said, marking down Kyra's next match.

Riddick turned around and came face to face with Alexis. He was quiet for a moment, and then echoed his words from earlier, "Somethin' I can help you with?"

She bit out, barely able to contain her anger, "Is this what it was all about? Fighting for money? You're just going to ride her success like a race horse for the prize?"

It made sense, all the training, all the things she had been seeing. This was the sum of all his efforts? The thought that he was using her, abusing the girl's trust in him... just to make her some pack-mule for profit... it disgusted her more than her words could express.

"Not. Even. Close."

The tone, deep and sharp, as well as the sudden tension in his shoulders, let her know she had struck a cord in him. He was definitely not happy at that statement and, for a long moment, she wondered what he was going to do--and if there was any way she could hope to prevent him from doing it.

Instead, she drew herself together pushed forward, using her anger at the situation to give her the false courage. She had to get answers, she felt Audrey was in danger and she couldn't let it continue if she could help it.

"Then what? Why bring her here?" Alexis demanded.

Riddick almost didn't answer her, but the tone of voice, the way she looked at him... it reminded him of someone. Someone that, in spite of knowing exactly who he was and what he could do, stood up to him and tried to reason with someone who blatantly told her he would leave behind.

Finally, he shrugged, "Call it a 'mid-term exam.'"

She stared at him incredulously for a long moment, trying to wrap her mind around that. He brushed past her and back through the crowd; he stopped by the railing and awaited the next fight.

"So this is all some sort of test? Couldn't you have done this--you're endangering her."

Riddick rounded on her, "That's the point. I pull my punches with her. She knows that. These people won't. I need to know she can handle it when it counts."

* * *

The fight ended and there was a pause as the pit was evacuated. Rachel finally made her way against the wall, but bumped into someone. The man turned, pausing in whatever he was saying, and stared at her expectantly.

"So what'll it be?"

"Huh?" Rachel said intelligently.

"Your bet," he said, holding a up a UD card-scanner.

She faltered glancing off to the side, "Uh, I-"

A man cut in, "I'll put fifty on Cyrus. He's gonna wipe the floor with that cocky bitch."

"I'm in, too. Gimme fifty for Cy," another said.

"What the Hell, I could use some easy beer money," a third said, "I'll put fifty on Cyrus. A fine face like that... 's a shame the babe's too stupid to stick to easy pickin's."

"Any takers on this bet?" the teller asked, sure that there had to be at least one person rooting for the underdog. But more bets kept coming in for Cyrus. Now there were ten bets for Cyrus, but none on Kyra.

Rachel ground her teeth. Audrey wasn't stupid... and from what she saw, she was an excellent fighter, too. After what she saw on that day after school in the gym, Audrey's first fight in the pit was a joke. And Audrey wouldn't go up against someone without thinking she could win, either. That wouldn't make any sense. So... what these men were saying...

Suddenly, Rachel felt the outrageous notion that she somehow had to support her friend. But how? And then a light went on in her head. Out of the hundred UDs card her mother had lent her, she had sixty UDs left on her card after the purchase of the necklace.

"Fifty UDs on Kyra," she said clearly, earning herself more than a few glances.

She blushed but held out her card.

"You sure about this, girl?" the teller asked, not wanting to take money from some slip of a girl.

"Positive. Put me in," she said with an unwavering conviction.

The teller took her card, inserted it momentarily while he extracted the UDs, and handed it back to her. Then the bets closed and the screen above the pit lit up. Everyone moved closer to see the fight.

"Ten to one favoring Cyrus. All bets are now locked," the teller said, giving another teller in a booth a thumbs-up for the go-ahead.

Other tellers around the pit gave their good-to-go sign to the man at the booth. The screen over the pit lit up:

**Cyrus (E-1) Kyra (E-10)**

* * *

Jack glanced at the board. So Riddick was skipping all the formalities. Figures. She slid down the ladder and into the pit. The man that climbed into the pit after her was more cautious--definitely a fighter. This one had an air of danger about him, unlike the last one. It was still nowhere close to what she felt around Riddick... When Riddick was angry, it was as if the temperature in the room rose and the air left, making it impossible to breathe.

It might take a bit of work, but she was confident she could handle this one, too. The bell rang.

They started out by circling each other. At least he had footwork. Suddenly, his leg shot out and she leaned back to keep her head out of range. The man spun with the kick and followed with a gut punch.

It connected, but Jack moved back, rubbing her stomach. That was a stupid thing for her to have done. She should have known that the kick was just a set up. If he had been holding a shiv, she would have been holding her intestines, right now. The more she thought about it and how her lack of skill must be embarrassing Riddick, the angrier she became. It wasn't the blind sort of rage; Riddick had helped her with that. Instead, she used her anger to channel more energy into herself, letting it work up her adrenaline.

She approached him, this time. She whipped out her right leg, her foot hitting the outside of his shin. Shots like that made it harder to walk after welts started swelling up the muscles. She faked a left hook and shot out with her right leg again when he moved to the right, putting weight on his left leg; she saw him wince at the impact. Yeah, he was feeling it, already.

Apparently, it made him angry. Not the good sort of anger, either. He over-extended a punch and she ducked, punching inside his arm just below the armpit. She let her knuckles drive in with the force of the blow and danced back as the man cried out.

'_The subaxillary bundle,_' Riddick's voice echoed inside her head, '_can cause the arm to go numb. They'll think twice before trying to punch with that arm again._'

She moved forward, almost stalking as she circled. The man kept a wary eye on her as he moved to keep her in sight. Jack darted forward again, punching with her left arm. He blocked and she shoved her right palm upward, hitting him right under the 'V' of his ribs. The air whisked from him and she quickly transferred to a right elbow, bringing it up and catching him under the just chin.

'_Solar plexus will knock the wind out..._' some half-formed words she'd memorized flew into her mind, '_...the point of the chin..._' more incoherent words came and went.

His guard was down and she didn't hesitate, sending her left boot into the side of his chest. She was pretty sure it cracked a rib or two... probably didn't outright break it; she didn't put enough force behind it. Now he was favoring his left arm, which he was still shaking and trying to get feeling back into it.

With more than sufficient opening, she leapt in lowly. He looked down as she spun while swiping at his knee with her fist. He jerked the leg back and prepared to kick her since her back was to him. It was a surprise for him when his foot met nothing--and he found himself jerking his head back as she sprung upward...

* * *

'_She's picking him apart..._' Alexis thought as she watched the girl fight.

Zimmy couldn't believe the girl was that good. But then again, she supposed she was gauging Audrey on Mr. Phoebus' lessons, where the obviously more skilled man doled out a fair share of punishment. Put into perspective like this, the coach had to wonder how soon Ms. Knight would be a match for some of the Marines...

She looked over to Rick and saw his expression was anything but pleased. Alexis couldn't begin to understand why.

* * *

As she'd done with Riddick before, Jack put her hands on Cyrus' shoulders, swinging up and over him. She pulled herself in and rammed her knees into his lower back, then sprung off him.

'_Lumbars..._' his voice resounded in her head, '_...sweet spot... fourth... just to the left..._'

Cyrus staggered forward and Jack landed in a crouch, looking supremely feline as her muscles bunched in preparation to pounce upon him again.

"Kyra!"

The voice roared over the shouts of the others, encouraging either her or Cyrus. It took her half a second to realize that she was Kyra... Jack looked up to see Riddick practically scowling at her. She visibly shrunk, her shoulders bunching slightly and her neck pulling her head back against them.

"Stop toying with him!" Riddick commanded.

Jack tensed up a bit, and then nodded. She launched into action. The man heard her approach just in time to turn and see her lunge forward, compact like a wrecking ball with her knee leading. She slammed into his jaw harshly and the man fell back, skidding about a yard before coming to a rest. Jack let out a breath, regrouping her balance from landing strangely after her forward momentum had suddenly been stolen.

Cyrus groaned, but lay still.

* * *

There were some hushed murmurs about what had just occurred. It was unnatural that some teen girl could just waltz in and tear a man down. Her sponsor didn't appear happy, however. The teller, who had seen many things himself, was more than a bit disconcerted by the result as well.

Rachel prodded the man standing beside her, who was holding the UD card scanner with a white-knuckled grip. He turned a surprised expression to her.

"Does this mean I win?"

He silently took her card and inserted it into the scanner, loading her profits onto the card. Shit, ten to one odds, and this girl just happened to be the one to take them. Well, now she was five-hundred UDs richer.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jack climbed out of the pit to meet Riddick. He had cooled down somewhat, but he still didn't look pleased. She suddenly noticed Zimmy standing just behind and to the side of him and winced internally. However, she had bigger things to worry about than wondering how to explain this to her gym coach.

"You do not play with your opponents."

"I wasn't-" she began, but he cut her off.

"There were plenty of ways to end that fight quicker," Riddick said, crossing his arms, "You always want to save your energy; prolonging a fight just to dish out some pain isn't worth it."

'_Shit, he sounds upset._' Jack thought.

Alexis watched him dress the girl down. Audrey seemed suitably chastised and was looking elsewhere. She couldn't help but wonder where Mr. Phoebus was going with all this. What did he want from Audrey?

"I just thought you wanted to see what I was capable of..."

Riddick let out a deep breath and pulled his anger back, "I already know what you're capable of. Right now, I need to know you can use that potential _efficiently_."

Jack nodded a bit.

"Okay, I only put you up for one more fight. This one's D-Rank. It's more your speed. You up for it?"

"Yeah, I'm good," she replied.

As much as Alexis felt like sticking around, she decided it would be unwise to leave Rachel along for any prolonged period of time. She didn't like the idea of what these types of people might do to an unattended teenage girl...

* * *

Rachel stood holding her card, staring at it rather than the fight that was happening right in front of her.

"What's that?" came Mrs. Zimmerman's voice from behind her.

The redhead started and turned around, holding up the UD card.

"I... I got five-hundred UDs."

Alexis blinked with a blank look of perplexity, "Where did you get five-hundred UDs all of the sudden?"

"Uh... Well... I was," she paused, steadying her nerves, "Those men were saying bad things about Audrey. And they kept taking bets on how badly she was going to be hurt! I wanted to do something and... so I put fifty UDs on her instead of that man."

"Rachel, you made a _bet_ on your friend in an underground fighting ring?" Zimmy exclaimed.

"It wasn't like that! They were just being so..."

Alexis waved her hand to cut the girl off, "Never mind... just... no more, okay?"

"I didn't plan on it... I just figured that when Audrey won, they would stop saying those things. ... It worked."

Zimmy almost smirked at that, but had to maintain her look of disapproval of illegal gambling; it was harder than it looked.

'_It certainly did..._' the coach thought, looking around and noticing that some of the men around them appeared pissed off.

* * *

Two fights passed before 'Kyra' was called again. In that time, the remaining tension between Riddick and herself had drained away. They shared a few words as they watched the fight, but most of it was spent in an amiable sort of silence. When her name was on the sign, she pushed off the rail.

Jack smiled at Riddick as if she were in a carnival midway, "Wish me luck!"

**Kuromori (D-10) Kyra (E-1)**

* * *

Every once in a while, someone with a lot of promise would enter the pit. They would rise up swiftly through the ranks until--and sometimes _if_--they met their match. Kuromori was one such individual. He came under the sole purpose of improving his skills; what he called it his 'true fighting potential.'

He didn't feel it could be done by ordinary means. Practice and sparring was one thing, but it wasn't necessarily practical in a true fight. So he came here with a friend; a more street-savvy friend than he. His friend, Jaser, had first joined his martial arts school as a means of learning protection on the streets. The man may not have followed the laws of the local government, but he was honest and sincere. When Kuromori expressed his concern for discovering his true fighting potential, Jaser mentioned the pit and offered to sponsor him.

Kuromori went through every fighter, even when Jaser knew he could rise quicker--as Kyra had done just moments before--but Kuromori refused. He wanted the battle experience; real fights that would allow him to see just how far his discipline had taken him. The results, so far, were that he was more than capable of holding his own.

And then there was Kyra, Kuromori thought. She seemed to be a kindred spirit; he could see the danger in how she moved. The girl wasn't a pushover... not at all. In fact, she might just be a major obstacle. Just because they were at the lower ranks meant nothing. He could sense it the moment the bell rang for Cyrus' fight; that 'aura' all warriors had.

He stepped down calmly into the ring, watching Kyra do the same on the opposite ladder. As his discipline dictated was proper, he bowed to her moments before the bell rang. Some of the other fighters scoffed at his actions. However, some of those same fighters were rendered unconscious during his ascension through the rank positions.

* * *

Jack stared at the man oddly. What was he doing? He then straightened and took a fighting stance. After blinking at him, she half turned to look back toward the ladder, toward Riddick. He shrugged, then tipped his head forward, indicating that she focus on Kuromori.

She turned back around and, after another quick glance over her shoulder, imitated the bow. She didn't know what kind of formality it was, but if this man truly was a respectable fighter--what few might be left--then she would at least grant him that...

When she straightened, Jack saw how his mahogany eyes were drilling into her with all their focus. The other fights she saw before this were an upper D Rank and a low C Rank. None of the four fighters had this look.

'_This guy's different,_' she thought, her guard immediately rising.

There was a quiet, unassuming intensity about him, but it was there nonetheless. He was about her height, and looked to have a weight advantage of maybe ten to fifteen pounds. Kuromori's build was less brawny than Riddick, but not the lithe musculature that Jack had... somewhere in between that she would call 'well-toned.' He had some black fuzz on the top of his head and a thin, goatee stripe running down the middle of his chin.

Kuromori wore loose-fitting pants, more akin to the durable training gi types that wouldn't restrict his movement than anything else. Likewise, his shirt was long-sleeved and made of the same material. From looking at it, Jack could tell that its somewhat course material would make it very hard to get out of any holds. Both were black, but the pants had red trim. His shoes had rubber soles, fit snugly, and were shaped to his foot--they didn't have laces. Jack didn't have any more time to mull over his choice of attire.

The bell rang.

Jack moved in, as did Kuromori, but he paused--making her stop short. And then he did the oddest thing during a battle. He just began talking! What was he trying to pull? You didn't start a conversation in a fight. Maybe it was psychological warfare?

"I would like to make a proposition," he said, not bothering for a pause for her reply, "I am here to test my true fighting potential. You held back during your previous rounds. Fight me with everything you have, and I shall do the same."

There was a pause as she considered that this was all some elaborate trick and not once did she let down her guard, even as the sounds of murmurs came from the crowd when they simply stood there.

"What's your name?" she asked. Sure, it was on the screen above them, but Jack sure as Hell wasn't taking her eyes off the man.

"Ken'ichi Kuromori."

'_Kenny ch-..._' Jack pondered for half a beat, then gave up trying to picture his name in her head, '_screw it._'

"Well, Ken, you've got yourself a deal."

So saying, she launched forward and planted her hands on the ground, her legs splaying out for a moment before clamping down in a scissor motion. One leg was aimed at the back of his knees and the other at his ankles.

Kuromori leapt up, and then brought his right fist down toward her head as he fell. He was surprised to meet with air alone. Jack had rolled backward and hand-sprung into an upright position. She was charging back toward him before he had time to stand.

As she approached she saw him rock back and brought herself to an abrupt halt. Jack narrowly missed his feet swinging upward. They would have caught her in the chin; as it was, she had to lean back to avoid them.

Once she was safe, she lashed out with her left leg. He caught it with far less effort than she would have liked... Kuromori lifted her left foot higher and made to kick her supporting leg. He did not count on her entire body following her left leg, lifting into the air. Reminiscent to a flash-kick, she nailed him at an awkward angle, her boot slamming into his cheek.

As Kuromori staggered back, she did what she could to cushion how she landed on her stomach. With a quick push-up, she was on her feet and they squared off once again...

* * *

"I don't like how this looks," Alexis said with a frown. "This man is a step above the others."

Rachel looked away from the fight for a quick second, toward her gym coach; her expression was suddenly worried.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this guy knows what he's doing. Those last two fights were fluff. Mr. Phoebus better know what the Hell he's doing..."

* * *

Jack moved forward again, leaping into the air and spinning; she kicked out with her right leg. Kuromori ducked her kick. As she landed, she continued spinning and sent the same leg jamming down toward his head.

Still crouched, he raised a forearm to block the kick but grabbed her ankle before she could pull it back. With a harsh tug, he jerked her forward and planted an elbow into her gut. She gave a loud grunt, and the next thing she was aware of was Kuromori grabbing her arm and tossing her by her right limbs.

Jack landed on her stomach, not quite as gently as she had before. She was still for a moment and thought about what had happened, leaving her eyes closed. Kuromori rose to his feet, still watching her intently. Her jaw worked as she put her hands on the ground, moving to her knees and finally getting to her feet. That hurt, but Riddick had pushed her harder during their spars. Still, a few more of those and she'd have to call it a night.

She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling, and raised her arms above her head with her fingers interlaced. Jack pushed her arms up and back, flexing her fingers, and arched her spine; her knuckles and back cracked a bit. She let her arms fall to the side and took a deep breath. Lips parting, a grin slowly tripped across her features. It was manic--bordering on maniacal.

"Don't stop now, the fun's just starting..."

She ran full throttle at Kuromori, pushing her speed and agility to put on an offensive. Jack reared her left arm back, swinging it just forward enough for Kuromori to dodge to the right, and then followed the fake with a harsh right to the jaw. Dancing out, the girl shot low with her left boot; the martial artist lifted the targeted leg. However, Jack spun with the rotation and clocked him with a back-fist.

He retaliated with a kick toward her ribs, which she took only to slam her arm down, trapping his leg. Jack kicked out at his supporting leg and tripped him. She moved in only to receive a kick to the chest from the leg she wasn't holding. She stumbled back, dropping his other leg. In no time, Kuromori was back on his feet.

They traded some punches and kicks, none of which seemed to connect or do any lasting damage. They were soon covered in superficial scratches and a few reddening spots that would become minor bruises. Finally, she caught onto a slight pattern in his method of attack. His style. That was something Riddick had told her to observe. Many people chose a form or study of fighting and stuck to it, which often made them predictable. That was why he was constantly pushing her to use everything she learned in a loose freestyle--and never to become repetitive.

She tested the theory, shooting out a right leg toward his head and saw the same manner of block used as once before. After analyzing the defense, Jack picked at it in her head until she found a suitable counter. It would require some fancy footwork and some acrobatics, but she had that. Jack pivoted her hips back, then forward with foot swinging forward as though kicking, but merely changed her stance. Interpreting a powerful kick to the head, he rose one forearm and reinforced it with his other arm.

'_Gotcha._'

She quickly jumped and flung up her right leg in a rising kick, sending it into his chin. Still in the air, she rotated her body with the inertia of the first kick and delivered a second to his chest. The fluid motion of the kicks knocked Kuromori off his feet and sent him flying backward.

Jack touched down, and her body remaining hunkered down like some beast ready to pounce. She was breathing heavily. The girl had to thank Riddick's foresight in moments like these. Two weeks ago, she would have been completely gassed long before now; all that endurance training paid off.

The martial artist was slower getting to his feet and his chin and lip were bleeding. On the positive side, he still had all his teeth... He cautiously stood up and took some deep breaths; it hurt and he wondered if she had broken anything. However, he could still move and was sure that if his ribs were broken, breathing would be a lot harder than it currently was.

They closed upon each other and Jack lunged once she was within range, twirling in the air and sending a kick at head level that he ducked. The moment her feet hit the ground, Kuromori lashed out with his right leg like a viper. She had expected something like that, though, and by that time had already moved. Jack darted in under his kick and punched at the supporting leg's thigh, effectively targeting the femoral nerve. It wasn't a groin-shot, which she felt was too dirty for this type of fight, but it would definitely hurt. As she expected, his left leg went numb and he fairly dropped to the ground on one knee.

Jack tried a left cross, but he blocked. His left arm fired off a gut-shot that sunk into her stomach and expelled the air from her. Wincing, she brought a hammer-fist down on the inside of his elbow to keep the fist from drilling farther into her. With that arm lowered, she sent her knee rounding at the left side of Kuromori's head.

He fell to the side, only catching himself on his right arm from being laid out completely. The man was obviously rocked, his other arm going rubbery as he fought to regain his senses. She pounced! In a flash, she had snared his left arm, springing over him and pulling it up behind him in a hammerlock. She forced him farther to the ground and, when his head was on the matting, kneeled down with one knee resting on his neck.

She knew that, at any moment she could harshly bounce and snap his neck. So did he. After a few seconds of harsh breathing, Kuromori spoke.

"I give."

* * *

The pressure on Kuromori's neck and shoulder immediately lessened and he rolled onto his back, his chest rapidly rising and falling, fighting for breath. He was having trouble accepting that this spunky, teenaged girl had just defeated him. Yet there he was, staring against the glare of the overhead lights, at Kyra. She, too, was panting with the exertion of the skirmish, but she looked utterly delighted with herself.

She stood over him, her smile more sane and amiable. She leaned forward a bit and held her hand out. He stared at her for a moment, then grasped her forearm and accepted her help standing. Overall, it wasn't a hugely dramatic or climatic battle, but it had been a test of both their skills.

He bowed to her once more, noting her puzzled expression as she hesitantly answered--unsure if it was the right thing to be doing. He almost smiled at that, and then almost frowned. She was trained, well toned, and showed knowledge of many styles of martial arts during the fight--surely, she would have come across that formality in her lessons... how could she not have?

Ken'ichi followed her up the ladder and tracked her to toward a powerhouse of a man who wore welding goggles, during the night at that. Suddenly Kyra and her sponsor had become quite interesting to him. He wanted to know where she learned to fight.

He approached the duo; the man was simply nodding while Kyra--who was acting more like a girl her age, now--prattled on about something. However, even though the man's eyes were covered, he could sense the steady gaze, evaluating upon him. Kuromori saw him tense, a flicker of movement as the man reached behind him for... something. Instantly, Ken'ichi slowed in his approach.

* * *

"-and I wasn't sure if I could beat him, but then I realized that he was being all repetitive and used it to... What?"

She blinked, noticing his attention on what she was saying had evaporated, manifested itself somewhere else. Jack turned around and blinked at Kuromori. She wondered if he wasn't as respectable as she thought he was. Maybe he one of the sore loser types, maybe he was going to pick a fight outside the pit?

She tensed up slightly, but remained silent.

"You fight very well. You must be a source of pride to your sensei," said Kuromori.

Jack relaxed, but stared at him confusedly, "To my...?"

Riddick clarified for her, "He means your instructor."

"Ah, that's--Tyler. Tyler this is, uh..." Jack paused, wondering if she should attempt the man's name. Instead of mangling it, she decided to keep the nickname she'd given him, "Ken. Ken, this is Tyler."

If Ken'ichi was offended, he said nothing. The martial artist looked toward Riddick and nodded to him; Jack thought it was because the crowd was too packed for him to bow without bumping at least three people.

"I must congratulate you, Tyler, for teaching her so well. Kyra showed remarkable prowess; not many people are able to overcome Kokuei Do. I have been studying for years and am surprised to see so much skill in one so young. My students could do with that sort of dedication."

From what Jack could gather, he really was some sort of martial artist--not just a well-trained fighter. Apparently, he was also the teacher of his style of fighting. She might have been more interested, but she had seen its flaws and decided she was best sticking to what Riddick taught her.

She responded before Riddick could answer, "Your technique was good and everything, but you were repetitive. Once I knew what to watch for, I was able to predict what would do... Why stick with just one style? People're gonna rip you apart that way."

"That's not his point. It's not just fighting for him," Riddick replied.

"You are right; a strict style can become repetitive if a fight wears on," Kuromori conceded, "Tyler is also correct, however; this has been the fighting style of my people for ages. I strive to master it to honor my ancestors by keeping the art alive."

"It's hard to honor them if you die, though," Jack said. Then she jerked forward from what she suspected was Riddick's elbow hitting her back. "... Sorry."

He smiled and chuckled at her bluntness, "It is okay, I can understand what you mean. Perhaps when I have mastered my people's way, I shall improve myself as a fighter."

Riddick nodded to Kuromori as the man left them, noticing two familiar faces approaching. He already knew that Zimmy was here, but the sight of the redheaded girl with her had his eyebrows rising.

"Uh-oh... I think I'm in trouble..." Jack muttered, just loud enough that Riddick could hear over the crowd.

"I've already dealt with her," Riddick replied.

"Wait a sec... is that _Rachel_ with her?"

Riddick shrugged.

Ken'ichi turned around to see the two women--one that was 'Kyra's' age, the other one an older woman--striding toward them. The young one followed close behind the older woman and appeared so out of place he couldn't blame the girl.

Riddick voiced the cumulative question, "What's the mouse doin' here?"

Rachel ignored Riddick's pet name for her, though it was embarrassing to be referred to as such in the company of others.

"I was buying some last minute stuff for the dance, tomorrow. I saw you walking with him and I knew that Mr. Al-Walid's house was in the opposite direction... so I followed you here." Not liking being on the defensive, she shot back, "And I'd ask what she was doing here, but I saw."

It was about that time that she noticed the man she had just defeated--the one that had given her the most trouble--standing to the side of them. ... Oh. Well, didn't she feel comfortable, now?

Jack smirked, "Well, then, you shoulda made a bet. There was probably a ton of profit to be made with people playing odds against the newbie."

Rachel blushed for some reason or another. Jack didn't know why, but figured it was one of those things she just didn't understand about her friends and their 'normal' lives. Riddick on the other hand, noticed how Rachel slid something into her pocket as inconspicuously as possible--something small and square-shaped; like a UD card.

'_Well, what do you know..._' Riddick thought, then remembered something about her explanation, "What dance?"

"The school dance. There's two every year--one mid-year and one at the end. They don't give any homework to anyone for the weekend so most everyone can attend..."

Jack could feel the silver eyes staring through goggles and into the back of her head and she tensed slightly. She hadn't wanted to mention it to Riddick; no point in mentioning it if she wasn't attending. Why would he care? There were better things she could do with her time than waste it at some get-together with people she didn't know that well. There was a wall between her and the other students that made her feel awkward, too. That was why she usually opted to spend the time training.

"Anyway, we should probably head out, now right?" Jack asked, trying to avoid the topic.

The four of them moved toward the exit. Riddick, however, wasn't about to drop it completely. From what he understood, most girls were supposed to be all about this sort of thing. Then again, Jack was another story altogether.

"The Holy Man didn't mention anything about it," he said, solely focused on Jack.

"I already told him I wasn't going this time..."

Rachel sighed, earning a glance from Riddick, "You never go, Audrey. There's only two left before our graduation..."

"You're not helping," Jack fairly whined, "First, there's always a huge group of people and I doubt any of them would look my way twice. Secondly, I don't _want_ their attention on me. Lastly, I'd have to fuss with dresses and girly shit."

Alexis listened to the various reasons the girl listed and would have just said the girl was an extreme tomboy were they not walking through a fight club. She'd never really met a girl at her age that didn't like to take a night off and feel special. The whole point was to have fun--Audrey was making it sound like a gauntlet.

If Jack would have turned to him, she would have seen Riddick had one of those smirks that she hated; the ones that let her know she had just said something he was about to exploit.

"I don't know if you've checked the plumbing lately, _Audrey_, but you're a girl..."

"So... that doesn't mean anything," she defended, "Besides, it doesn't matter. I don't have any money for a stupid dress or anything."

He paused motioning for them wait. The three watched as he moved to the booth and talked with the teller. Riddick nodded once to the man and was passed something--they couldn't see what it was. When he returned, he took Jack's hand, turned it palm up, and dropped something into it.

"What's this?"

"Three-thousand UDs," he slid in simply.

"From where?" Jack inquired incredulously.

Riddick motioned behind him, "Pit. Tonight's winnings. You fought two top positions. In the lower ranks, below C, top positions are worth twelve-fifty. And you earn ten percent of the nearest thousand UDs for fighting. Apparently, your fights raked in five-K, so you also earned five-hundred UDs."

"...Holy shit..."

"More than enough for a respectable dress."

Jack's draw dropped and the wind in her sails left. He was ruining it! She didn't want to go to that stupid dance! What was wrong with him? He was _Richard B. Riddick_... Big Evil didn't _do_ stuff like this.

"Ri-" she paused, realizing she was about to say exactly what she was thinking, and began again, "Rick, I don't know the first thing about shopping for dresses. The dance is tomorrow, anyway. It's too-"

They left the building and came out to the alley. She had to figure out some way to escape this. Dance. Were they all insane? And why was Riddick trying to get her to go in the first place?

"I could show you a nice shop," Rachel said, "I found my dress there. They have some good prices on really nice stuff."

"See, problem solved," Riddick intoned.

They finally reached the main street and began heading back. Jack's mood was slightly sour and she was being as difficult as possible. Riddick didn't quite understand why she was fighting it so much, but he knew that Jack would likely regret it later in life if she didn't at least get this one taste of normalcy while she was young. School dances were one of those things most girls considered very memorable.

"But dress skirts restrict your movement and there's no way to-"

Alexis deadpanned, "It's a dance, Audrey, not a fight."

"Why are you ganging up on me like this?"

Rachel looked down the street, somewhat introspectively. Why was Audrey fighting this so hard? It was just a dance, not some diabolic event. Audrey confused her; she had so many excuses and was sure the girl would come up with more, given the chance.

Speaking a bit softer than the others, she asked, "Why don't you want to go?"

After a few beats of silence, broken only by their footfalls on the sand- and dirt-covered road, Jack replied, "I don't know. It's just never been that high on my list of priorities. There's always been something more important I could do with my time. Why waste time on something that... that _frivolous_?"

"But that's the point," Rachel said, "We aren't given homework this weekend so we wouldn't have anything important--just so we could relax and have fun. One night where we can just let it all go and not worry about anything."

"Times like that don't exist; it's just an illusion... or a delusion. Take your pick. A man I knew for a less than a day once said, 'Amazing how you can do without the essentials of life, so long as you have the luxuries.' He died that very day--night, whatever--and his death was... unpleasant."

Rachel was quiet. Was that really how Audrey thought? It was awfully dark, even for her unsheltered and cynical view on life. The redhead leaned over toward Audrey, whispering in the girl's ear since the topic was something the other girl had expressed wishing to keep private.

"Was that man on that planet when he died?"

"Along with a bunch of others, including some Chrislam boys around my age at the time--they didn't make it, either. Imam's charges..." Jack muttered and trailed off, thinking about the various lives that had been lost to those hammerhead fuckers.

Jack especially thought of those she'd bonded with more than the others: Ali, Hasan, Suleiman, Shazza, and Fry. She knew she was lucky to escape... but she still felt that pull; for some god-awful reason, she felt like she shouldn't have made it. Jack heard that little voice in her head that told her she should be with the others that didn't make it... in some hole as some hammerhead's snack instead of having this _lovely_ conversation.

She sighed, '_Fucking survivor's guilt..._'

"You got away," Rachel said gently, sensing the girl's inner turmoil.

Jack was silent for the longest moment. A few, half-formed thoughts--responses, ways she could deal with it, reasons to answer, reasons to say silent--flitted through her head. In the end, she decided to answer.

Her tone was less than reassuring, bordering on regretful, "I know..."

That was not the kind of response that Rachel had been expecting, and certainly not the way Audrey said it. It confused her why she would feel so bad about making it out of that situation alive. Rachel sighed; she had never seen Audrey so down. Usually, the girl was blank, indifferent, or happy. Then again, since the facade of Audrey lifted to reveal Jack to her, she had to wonder if Audrey had ever been happy... but this was something new. Rachel didn't like how depressive the girl appeared and sounded.

"You'll enjoy the dance--you'll see. Cheer up, okay?"

Jack suddenly realized that she was worrying her friend and instantly put up her 'Good Girl' face. The emotion fairly drained from her face, and a false smile plastered across her face.

"I'll be okay," she said with a fake calm.

There was a long pause as Rachel stopped walking. She looked at Jack with a disappointed expression on her face. Jack stopped, looking at her friend.

"Please don't do that to me, Audrey."

Almost immediately, her face fell, becoming more somber and less upbeat, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, just come to the dance. We'll have fun, okay?"

Jack nodded. The girl became quiet, though less downtrodden as she went along. It wouldn't be terribly sufferable to attend, she conceded, but she didn't see how she could actually find something like this _fun_. Then she came up with something that make the whole ordeal more bearable. Her eyes slid over toward Riddick and a very slight smirk lit across her face. As he noticed her look, an alarm went off inside his head.

"I'm sure we will."

"Did not just include me in that 'we.'"

"If I have to go, so do you," Jack argued back.

His reply came back just as steadfast, "I don't do parties. And I don't dance."

"Then I'm not going."

Alexis observed the three, content to attempt to decipher the mystery of the two. As they bickered back and forth over mundane things after unusual events as if nothing odd had occurred, she had to curse herself for not seeing it sooner. Audrey had so many cues that should have tipped her about her student's strange nature.

Audrey reminded her of the good ol' boys she had trained. Most of them were rough around the edges, but so fragile inside... Those ones came off the streets and joined the military because they didn't have any better option; that it was a way out and excuse to vent their pent up energy, frustration, and anger. She had focused that energy; gave that frustration and rage an outlet. When she was done with them, they were well trained and loyal almost to a fault.

'_Is Audrey like that? Is she a street kid? There's literally nothing before she showed up with Mr. Al-Walid some five years ago. Training her the way he does... does Rick realize what he's doing? Audrey does seem very loyal._

_ 'And here I come full circle. What is she being trained for? Certainly not trading... Who are they?_'

"So you're coming?"

He said nothing for a few beats and it seemed as though he was about to balk or flat out refuse. Or not. Audrey couldn't tell; he was blanking his face on her. Damn.

"Only to keep your ass out of trouble."

Finally, it seemed as though she had something to look forward and Jack smiled, just a little. At length, they came to a point where they had to go their separate ways. Jack and Riddick headed for the Al-Walid residence, Rachel to her mother, and Alexis to her own house. Tomorrow was another day and they all needed some sleep...

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Another chapter I've been plotting was the Pit! I had all sorts of ideas, but when it came to actually plotting and writing it, I decided not to go with lots of fights, but only a few rounds. It worked out better that way and allowed me to go into more detail with each fight rather than have her fight one after another and have to omit stuff due to length and keeping reader's attention. The bet was half-planned, but turned into a rather amusing aside to explore. Also, we get to see more of Alexis outside of coaching her gym class. This is one of the few, but not the last, times we will see Zimmy in a social setting instead of professional.

Rachel's parts come in handy and important later on, of course. If it weren't for K-monster helping me with clothing stuff, this (and the upcoming shopping scene) would have been damn near impossible! I have pictures of the clothing and jewelry and the like that I used for reference while going along--that was a lot of research, actually, and I'd no idea about clothing and seamstress stuff.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	7. 7: Shopping for a Jack, Dancing with

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 7: Shopping for a Jack, Dancing with a Jack_

There was a knock at the door. It was about what passed for noon on Helion Prime. Its noon was a substantially large part of the day, being so close to the system's sun. Imam stood up from his desk, putting aside a few documents he had been reading over for the Council. He opened the door and smiled.

"Hello, Rachel. Are you here for Jack?"

"Yes, Mr. Al-Walid. Is she here?" asked the redhead.

"She should be in her room--I did not tell her when you were coming..."

Rachel stared at him for a few seconds. What did that mean? That the girl wouldn't have been there if Audrey had known she was coming? She just couldn't see Audrey running away from a little shopping spree...

Audrey's door was open when she went upstairs. Rachel peered inside and found the girl on her back and gripping two ten-pound dumbbells beside her head. She was performing alternating crunches, rising to put one elbow on the opposite knee, and lowering to repeat with the other elbow. A small com screen sat to the side of the room, displaying a music player. Small domes covered Audrey's ears, pumping the music into them. Rachel could just make out some sort of high-energy, heavy metal throttling through them.

A small sheen of sweat glistened on her and made her midriff tank slightly damp. She was wearing sweat pants, and--judging by her hair--had not bothered with anything since she woke up this morning. Suddenly, she paused mid-crunch, her entire frame tensing a fraction of a second before she whirled around. Those green, feral eyes locked on her, almost as if sizing her up... and then they dulled; just a bit.

"Rachel..." she said in a surprised tone, setting down the dumbbells and using a small remote to pause the music. After she pulled off the earphones, she asked as innocently as possible, "What are you doing here?"

The redhead, however, was not about to give Audrey any quarter. She had told Rachel they would shop for the dance today, and so they would. And it _would_ be fun, even if Rachel had to _make_ Audrey enjoy it.

"We're going shopping for a dress, remember?"

"...Oh. Yeah... that."

"Yes, _that_," mocked Rachel, "Now go get ready. We'll need some time to find just the right thing!"

Jack grabbed some clothes and dragged herself toward the bathroom, muttering something Rachel couldn't make out. Inevitably, she found herself ready to go and they were going. Leaving. Actually headed out to go shopping... for a dance.

Jack lagged behind Rachel a little like toted luggage. They came to one shop and Rachel moved to the door. Jack, however, remained in the street, distrustfully staring into the store through the windows.

'_I have a feeling I'm not going to like this._'

"Audrey, come on. Stop dawdling; the dance is in eight hours."

Jack blanched, "Can shopping even take that long?"

"Only if you do it right," Rachel grinned.

Jack groaned and reluctantly followed her into the shop and something immediately caught her eye. She didn't like what she saw, but it was like a freighter wreck--she just couldn't look away. It had to be the most... _girly_ little piece there. It had puffy shoulders and a skirt that could only be described as 'poofy.' It literally billowed out like a parasol. It was a sickening color of pale yellow with sequins, ribbons, and bows. Jack wished to burn it at first glance. But upon looking closer, was not sure that mere fire would do the deed for something so vilely priss.

"May I help you?" asked a woman that walked up to them.

The saleslady was tall and had a Mediterranean appearance; perhaps she was of Italian lineage. The woman wore a business suit and, in the manner she spoke, seemed to state a fact that Jack needed help rather than asking a question. Jack looked at her grey tank, black cargo pants, and combat boots and decided she in fact did not need help.

"Yes," Rachel said in the antithesis to her thoughts, "my friend needs a dress for a school dance."

The woman pointed and began, "Well, there is a lovely-"

"No frills, no ribbons, no bows, and no shiny bits, just... _no_," she said, glaring daggers of hate at the yellow monstrosity.

'_Oh, dear,_' thought the saleslady, '_she's one of _those_ types... Maybe if I just prod her a bit toward the back section..._'

"If you're looking for something less complicated, then let me show you these," the sales clerk said, herding them back.

Jack doubted she would find anything to her liking, so she simply tagged along. Granted, they were shopping for her, but she felt as if it would be more at playing dress up for Rachel until something worked well enough that she could buy it and leave.

"This little number is a classic oriental style; it was imported from Gemini 6, manufactured by Qin Fashion from New Hong Kong."

The red dress was very form fitting and had a slit up the right leg that stopped three-quarters of the way down the thigh. It was a sleeveless and had a high collar. The red was deep, bordering on burgundy, and had rose-pink floral designs along green vines embroidered upon it. Jack would admit it was pretty, but definitely not something she would ever wear.

"It's... um... nice, but," Jack began, trying to picture herself in the dress. She just couldn't.

Rachel, too, was having trouble picturing her friend in such a thing. As she looked around the store, she saw many fancy dresses and extravagant styles and none of them seemed to shout 'Audrey.' No, that wasn't right... None of them seemed to shout 'Jack.'

The shorter girl ventured, "Maybe something less exotic?"

"My dear, I doubt you will find anything 'plain' here; every dress here is made to make a statement, a specific impression. They aren't simply idle clothing, but works focused on evoking a certain emotion from those around it," the saleswoman said, totally immersed in her element, "These dresses aren't for everyone--and not everyone can pull them off without looking tacky.

"I think that, for someone like your friend, this is the wrong store. However, my colleagues have formed a chain; if you cannot find what you are looking for here, you will most certainly find it in one of their shops. Can you tell me what you are looking for? Perhaps I can help direct you to that perfect outfit."

Rachel nodded, but was inwardly hoping that the rest of the salesclerks weren't this... intense. She honestly could not say she was as enthusiastic about dress shopping as this woman was.

Rachel nodded as she thought it over, "Well, like I said, it's for a school dance. But there's only two dances a year. Everyone's going to be there. This will be her first time going...

"It doesn't need to stun people, but it does need to compliment her. Uh..." Rachel said.

Rachel tried to think of how to describe the ideal dress to the woman, but every time a dress popped into her head, it did not properly match Audrey. Truthfully, she didn't know what would make the other girl look beautiful, only that it was possible.

Jack chimed in, "And it has to be functional. Pretty doesn't matter if you trip yourself every other step."

The saleslady laughed, this one had spirit. Even if she was quiet, there was an air of fire about her--around both of them, actually. The woman smiled at the two; she knew _exactly_ whom they needed to see.

"Two blocks down, there is another store. It is called _Theresa's Threads_. Tell Theresa that Kathryn sent you. She will take care of you, I am certain."

Rachel thanked the woman and fairly dragged Jack out with her. Jack was relieved to leave, as she felt the woman was a tad bit more than creepy. Maybe Kathryn was just a little eccentric, but that was enough to creep out Jack. She looked at the back of Rachel's head as the girl dragged her down the street.

"So we couldn't find a dress, can I go home now and tell Ima-"

"No, that was only the first store. It's rare to find what you want at the first store you go to, anyway. You have to look around for just the right thing. But that lady was nice enough to point us in the direction of another place--so let's try it, next."

Jack groaned, but complied.

_Theresa's Threads_ was a place that looked much like Kathryn's stores, but the dress types were very different. While they were all beautiful, like the numbers in Kathryn's, they had none of the done-up showiness. They were down-to-earth while retaining their elegance; they did not shout prestige, but grace and sophistication.

Another woman sat in lounging chair beside a counter. It was reclined partially and the woman had a com-pad in her hands, reading an article. It lowered slightly, just enough for the shrewd, blue eyes to peer over it. The woman was of average height with short, slightly spiky, blonde hair and a dark blue business suit and pants. Theresa let them browse around for a bit, content to read her net-magazine.

At first, Jack was mentally whimpering at the thought of trouncing around New Mecca's markets looking for a dress; to find herself surrounded by dainty little things that would make her cringe and gag. But this store actually looked... promising. She hated to admit it, but some of the dresses in here were quite flattering--even if they weren't especially fanciful. They met her criteria: there was no overabundance of ribbons or sequins, nothing had outrageous bows, and not a ruffled, poofy frill in sight.

Theresa didn't bother getting up, "What can I do for you?"

The woman wasn't incredibly mannered, even though she was very welcoming. It was as though Kathryn attended etiquette training that Theresa had not. The woman was direct, even blunt. Jack immediately liked the vibe she was getting.

"Need a dress," she muttered unenthusiastically, wandering toward something that caught her eye. She picked at the fabric of the skirt hem and elaborated, "For a dance."

She raised a brow. The brunette didn't seem all that happy to be here. Then again, judging by how she was dressed--combat boots and all--that this girl didn't know much about fashion.

"Care to elaborate?" asked the blonde saleswoman.

Rachel was surprised at the woman's attitude. She wasn't even standing up to attend to them. For all intents and purposes, Theresa was lounging. On the other hand, at least she had Jack talking to her...

Jack shrugged indifferently, "Nothing sissified. Easy to put on, easy to move in. I'm not picky..."

It was only then that Theresa put aside her com-pad and stood. She shook her head and moved over to the two. Crossing her arms, she looked at the young girl--dull, bored eyes stared at her. But just underneath, there was a energetic fire. This girl had passion... probably didn't know it, yet.

"I can't sell you a dress. You're just settling for something; you need to _look_ at the dress."

It was almost a challenge. She could _see_ it. Jack crossed her arms, mirroring the woman. The fire lit into her eyes. _Couldn't_ sell her a dress? One dress was as good as another, in her opinion. They all seemed to have the same base build. It was true, some were uglier than others, but in the end they were all still dresses.

"Why not? Why can't I just get that one," she asked, pointing out one of the dresses at random.

Her reply made Rachel wince. She was quite sure that Theresa would lose her temper for Audrey being a tough customer and throw them out for the comment. Theresa shook her head.

"It's not going to work. You don't have the sense of fashion to properly look for a dress."

Before her friend could dig a deeper hole, Rachel cut in, "Kathryn sent us here because she said you could help Audrey find a dress for the dance tonight... It's rather short notice, but I was hoping to find her something that would work."

"Kathy sent you my way, huh? I can see why. She's used to the snobs--what she calls 'refined,'" the saleswoman said, then sighed. She went to her com-pad and picked the stylus from it. "Okay, I think I can help. Audrey is it? I'm gonna say a few words and want you to tell me the first thing that pops into your head after every word. Okay?"

Jack gave her a quizzical stare and nodded.

"Color."

"Silver," Jack blurted, and the woman wrote it down.

"Fun."

"Fighting."

Theresa paused, glancing up before she wrote the word down. Then she shot out another word.

"Comfort."

"Dark."

"Fascination."

The word took her by surprise and Jack floundered inside her mind for a half-second before a word entered her head, "Shine."

'_Strange girl, but that should be enough to go on... I hope,_' Theresa thought with a nod.

"So what was that all about?" asked the brunette.

The saleswoman moved around, picking various things from around the store. She laid the dresses she chose on a table and continued to bustle about the store. As Theresa moved around them like a dizzying bee, she explained the process.

"You... know exactly what you want. You just don't know how to get it. Luckily, I know what to look for."

Rachel raised a brow. This one was possibly as eccentric as the last, but she wasn't about to say anything if it got them a dress. However, she did notice that every item Theresa pulled was a dark colored dress with some silver. Perhaps there was a method to the madness, after all.

"Now we'll have some fun," Theresa said.

Rachel doubted it.

Theresa beckoned Jack over and held up a dress. It was a spaghetti-strap style dress with a black and grey theme. The straps were grey, but the top was black. There was a low back and the neckline dipped broadly, but not very deeply. The skirt fell to the knee and did not have any pleats or folds. It had small bands of grey trim. The whole dress seemed to glitter like fine desert sand in moonlight.

Jack stared at it for a bit, but said nothing. She was quiet for longer than her friend thought she would be. There was no praise as Jack assessed the dress, but she didn't outright dismiss it, either. Quietly, she tilted her head to the side in that way that Rachel had come to understand as contemplative.

"_Now_ you're looking," affirmed Theresa, then put a hand on Jack's back and propelled her toward a changing room, "Go try this on."

She noticed how the girl's back muscles twitched and slowly relaxed. Jumpy, was she? Theresa supposed that a girl like her wouldn't be used to doing this sort of setting and was tense, but she was sure she could get Audrey to loosen up.

The saleswoman smiled easily, "It won't bite, promise."

Jack went into the dressing room and took off her boots and most of her clothes. It meant shedding her shivs, as there was no place to put them on a dress like this, but she supposed it was okay. After a few minutes of cursing, Jack figured out just how the dress should situate itself on her body. It was a little longer on her--it was supposed to be a knee length dress, but came a few inches above the middle of her shins.

Outside the dressing room, they heard her profanity raise and subside and Rachel blushed. Sometimes some of those words ran through her mind when she tried to get into a dress, as well, but she had never heard them strung together with that... proficiency.

Rachel ventured to ask, "Is everything alright?"

"...Yeah," came Jack's semi-muttered reply.

Theresa prodded her, "Well come out and let us see!"

Barefoot, she reluctantly stepped out of the dressing room. She did not look at either of them and was the picture of awkward. She shifted her weight and scuffed one of her feet against the soft, short carpet. However, she did look stunning in the dress. Even if her hair wasn't fashioned into any style, she would turn the heads of many men. Jack noticed the silence and chanced a look at Rachel.

"_What_?"

The saleswoman moved to close the door to the changing rooms. There was a mirror on the back of the door; apparently, the girl did not bother to look too closely at herself in the mirrors in the room. Theresa put her hands on the girl's shoulders and slowly turned her around to face the mirror.

Jack was struck dumb by her reflection. That was not herself looking back at her. She didn't look like that... Even with her lean figure, her honed muscles that she knew were hers tensed to bring up her hand to her face; her fingers brushed a wayward strand from her face. The reflection did the same.

'_That _is_ me. _I_ look like that..._'

"There. See? Do a little spin for us."

When Theresa stepped back, she made a twirl as though she were giving a slow, spinning back-fist. Out of habit, her fists went up... but she dropped them as she watched the skirt swirl about her knees in the mirror. She blinked once or twice; it was hard to believe that something simple like a dress could make her look so different. She knew it could since she had masqueraded as a boy for several years of her life, but she had never looked... beautiful. Jack had never really _felt_ beautiful, either.

Her reflection smiled at her.

It was a tiny smile. But Rachel and Theresa saw it. Rachel couldn't believe it. Audrey found a dress she liked. She was _smiling_ about it.

The woman looked over it with a critical eye, "It's a little long. I would need to hem it after fitting it to her, but it's a good one. But there are still others to try."

"I want it," Jack said.

"I told you not to settle, you can't just pick the first thing you see-"

"I don't want it for the dance," she said, looking at Theresa as if daring her to deny her, "I-I just want it."

Theresa stared back for a beat or two, and then gave small nod. She held up another dress...

"Now let's try this one..."

They tried several more dresses Theresa picked out and had Jack spin around for each one. Some she liked, some she didn't exactly feel fit her--but they all made her striking. The small smile didn't leave her face for the next two hours. It wasn't a large expression, but Rachel was aware of how much it meant. And Jack was enjoying herself! Rachel couldn't help but laugh and smile with her friend as they went through the dresses and just generally immersed themselves in the experience.

Finally, Jack came out in a silk jersey dress. The pleated, columnar dress looked as though it had simply wrapped itself around her. The dress required no tailoring--as though the designer had Jack in mind when creating it. The fabric met at a point just above the heart, wrapping over itself and forming a small strap over the left shoulder. The skirt itself came to her ankles, the pleats leading the length of the gown.

The entire dress was a study of twilight, shimmering like the starry, night sky. It was a deep, midnight blue so dark that it was black as space in its shadows. Where the light hit it, it would reach a royal blue and charcoal like Jack had stolen the horizon for a shroud. The girl looked ethereal.

She came out with that small smile and did a spin for the two, by now more practiced in moving about in the longer dresses. They gave her approving nods and she turned around to look at herself in the mirror. Then she stopped. Jack's smile slipped away, her mouth parted a bit.

"This one," she whispered.

Rachel looked at the small pile of dresses, "We still have a few more-"

Jack shook her head.

"This is the one I want."

Theresa took Jack's measurements to hem the first dress. The girl handed her UD card to Theresa, who told her to return in a couple hours--the time it would take to hem the extra dress; she would pick up both dresses on her way home. With the business of a dress taken finished, Rachel explained that they needed some shoes to go with it.

By now, Jack was more receptive to the idea of shopping and did not protest as much as before (though she did put up a token struggle). They went through three stores, and in the process discovered that Jack was completely and utterly useless in anything with heels above two inches. They resolved to keep her low or flat, since the brunette went wobbly otherwise. She might have gotten the hang of it if given time, but they were on a schedule and didn't have that luxury.

They wound up with some black, soft-soled ballet slippers. Tiny black beads surrounded the rim of the shoe and a floral design of black chiffon with more black beads set neatly on the vamp. They matched her dark dress and allowed her to move easily while maintaining an aesthetically pleasing effect to her ensemble.

Rachel then dragged her to get her nails done; something Jack failed to understand in its entirety, but let her friend boss her into it. Who cared what her nails looked like? When she wound up with hands often covered in blood, it seemed rather pointless to do up her nails. The stylist reprimanded her for not taking better care of her nails. It was lost on Jack.

Next, both Rachel and Jack had their hair done. Again, the stylist reprimanded Jack for not keeping up with her hair better because, much to her confusion, the stylist said she had 'gorgeous hair' that was 'to die for.' Jack had no clue what to do with her hair and her indifferent responses to various hair styles exasperated her stylist until Rachel came to help.

Rachel and the stylist eventually decided that Jack's hair would look good in a cinnamon bun style. Her stylist wrapped up the majority of her hair in a spiral at the back of her head, held in place with two, long hair sticks. The comment that the pins were quite sharp and would be good defense for anyone that tried to get fresh with her was not well received.

Rachel's hairstyle was simpler since she did not have Jack's length of hair. Her stylist fixed her bangs into a choppy arrangement and flared out her shoulder-length hair in a slightly more wild style instead of her usual hanging style. It made her hair look more flame-like.

One thing Rachel found she could not convince Audrey to do was to put on make-up. She refused to look at or even entertain the idea of 'painting her face with that shit.' In the end, she gave up on that front and they were done. The two dropped by _Theresa's Threads_ and picked up her dresses.

Finally, Jack returned home and she promised to see Rachel and Cassie at the dance. She busied herself about and ate dinner. She talked about her shopping trip with the rest of the family and Riddick.

"So I'm supposed to refrain from hitting someone or I'll mess up this nail junk..."

"I should hope that you would refrain from hitting anyone at all, Jack," said Imam.

Jack noised noncommittally, "I'll try..."

After they cleared the table, Jack went upstairs to change into her dress. Once again, she had a bit of trouble getting into the dress, but finally managed. The soft-soled shoes she wore were quite comfortable and, once she finished, looked at herself in the mirror. This time--alone in the safety of her room--she allowed herself a full, bright smile crossed her face.

She _was_ beautiful. Beautiful and dark. In fact, she looked as though she could blend into the night. And those hairpins were definitely capable of doing some damage no matter what Rachel said.

"Like a black widow... beautiful, dark, and _deadly_," she said to herself.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.

When she came down the stairs, she was aware of Imam and Riddick staring at her. Even though the face of the latter was impassive, she could tell they were admiring her. It was a new feeling and she was not sure how to deal with it. It made her slightly uncomfortable and she was about to say something when Imam approached her.

"I bought something for you today, Jack," Imam said.

This surprised Jack. Imam rarely got her things; he did not need to and she rarely expressed interest in anything beyond her knives and training. He held out a length of thin chain. It glinted in the light; silver. Nothing about it was fancy, but to add it to what she already had would make her look otherworldly.

"Imam, I can't-"

"It would please me to have you wear it, Jack."

When he said it like that, she couldn't really refuse. He fixed it around her neck and stepped back. He had the broadest smile she had ever seen on his face. Riddick was still silent, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

"It's perfect."

Jack shook her head.

"Not yet."

Unclasping the necklace, she pulled off her other necklace--a simple cord that held the tooth--and removed the sharp fang. She discarded the cord and carefully threaded the silver through the hoop attached to the tooth. Jack clasped the silver necklace around her neck and the razor triangle sat at her sternum.

"_Now_ it's perfect."

For the first time, Riddick spoke, "Good to go?"

She looked over at him and had to admit that he cleaned up well. He wore a grey, button-up tee shirt and some khakis. He had foregone the boots in favor of some less "heavy-duty" footwear. The welding goggles were ever present. Vacantly, Jack nodded.

He helped her over to a hover-car he had rented; it wasn't a luxury transport by any means, but it was definitely not a junk-pile. They arrived at the school within minutes and he helped her out. In spite of her attempts to slip into the gymnasium, where the school was holding the dance, various teachers acting as chaperone as well as a good portion of the student body noted her arrival...

* * *

It was the twenty-first hour and the dance was about to start. Most everyone was inside the gym, socializing and waiting for the music to start. A few still lingered outside, enjoying the warm, night air before the dance. Among them were Cassie and her date. Cassandra had come with a somewhat lanky but handsome boy that she tutored in his Literature, Azem Al-Khalid.

Azem was a chivalrous and somewhat introverted Chrislam boy, which put him at humorous odds with Cassie. However, it seemed as though the rule that opposites attract was true and the two were a good match for each other. Cassandra constantly coaxed him to venture out of his shell and loosen up. Likewise, he seemed to be the small voice of reason that kept Cassandra tethered to safety. She was like a wind rushing across the land with abandon and he was the stalwart mountain buffering her from doing something destructive.

Cassie and Azem stood outside waiting for Cassie's friends, Rachel and Audrey. Rachel had gone stag and was accompanying another girl going alone, Lynne Tyche Fortuna. She had arrived shortly after Cassie. When the redhead noticed that one of her friends was standing with a date, she moved over to introduce Lynne to Cassie and the boy.

They were getting along quite well for having never met. Azem was always polite and Lynne was everyone's darling. With hair a bit shorter than Rachel's, her hair was a shade darker than her friend's blazing, red hair. She was more than just a pretty face, though. Lynne had a sharp wit, which she had demonstrated with great ferocity on several occasions to put would-be bullies in their place. The girl first met with Rachel in their Advanced Com Technologies class, where she received tips and help on the side by her friend. For a girl that claimed to be inept at most com things, Lynne found it strange how proficient Rachel was in that class.

The only one left to show up was Audrey. They did not have to wait long for a hover-car to pull up and a towering man that was drool-worthy for any of the girls that hadn't gone inside. He moved around to the passenger side of the 'car and opened the door and helped a girl out. It was then that Audrey, in all her resplendency, stepped out of the 'car. If Cassie hadn't known better, she would have thought that it was an entirely different person that got out of the vehicle. Rachel just smiled.

The large, imposing form of Rick walked toward them and Azem could not help but notice how he walked beside Audrey like some sort of bodyguard or guard dog. He was sharply dressed, but carried himself with an assertive directness that was practically a screamed warning in body language. Audrey, herself, did not seem to notice the waves of danger rolling off her escort.

Cassandra watched as Rick rested a few fingers on Audrey's shoulders. She turned to look up at him. He tilted his goggled head toward the entrance and the girl bobbed her head twice in a nod. With that, he moved off into the gym. She glanced toward Azem, Rachel, and Lynne, who had all seen the quick, silent conversation. Cassie still had to wonder how close of a bond the two had to have to carry such talks without any verbalization. Once the man was out of sight, the others looked back to Audrey.

"Wow, Audrey! I can't believe that's you; you're gorgeous!" Cassie said.

Still unused to praise of her looks, she blushed, nodded, and focused on the others.

"Um... yeah. So... uh... who're your friends?"

Rachel spoke up first, "This is Lynne Fortuna, a friend from my Com Tech. Class. Lynne, this is Audrey Knight."

Rachel didn't say where she met the girl, but she didn't need to know after hearing the name. This was her--_the_ Audrey Knight... mystery girl of the school. Quiet for the most part, but recently her name was positively everywhere; it was in every room and hall of the educational establishment. That must mean that man that had driven her was the 'Rick' that was giving her private self-defense lessons... the envy of almost every girl in school.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

'_Oh, I see my reputation precedes me..._' Jack mentally winced, but smiled and nodded.

When Audrey had turned her head away, Azem noted a scratch that had scabbed over her left cheek. He got a better look at it when Cassandra introduced Audrey to him. It wasn't just a scratch, but some red spots and one bruise near her jaw on the opposite side of her face.

"And this is Azem Al-Khalid," said Cassie, "I tutor him in Lit. He _finally_ asked me to the dance on Friday."

The boy blushed, but smiled a bit, "A pleasure, Audrey... Are you okay? Your cheek is scratched."

He asked as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to find out what had happened to her. It looked like she had been mugged!

"Huh?" Audrey asked, reaching up to her cheek and feeling the slight bump of the scab, "_Oh_, that. That happened a few days ago; Rick's fist caught me-"

Lynne's hand flew up to her mouth, covering her aghast expression, "He _hit_ you?"

The girl simply nodded, "Yeah..."

Azem was equally shocked, but could not hide his expression or tone, "_Why_?"

There was a silence and Jack seemed to be concentrating very hard on something, her eyes working back and forth as if analyzing something. Finally, she gave a small nod to herself.

She replied off-handedly, "'cause I kicked him in the head, I think."

At least, that was how she remembered the spar going... Was it _uppercut_, kick, punch or _sweep_, kick, punch?

"Why would you fight with such a man?" the Chrislamic boy had to ask.

Before the conversation could turn ugly or tread into grounds Audrey wasn't comfortable with, Cassie saved it. She could already see the gears turning in Audrey's head and did not like the look in her eyes.

"It's... not what it looks like," she abruptly interrupted before Audrey had a chance to reply, "Audrey's taking self-defense lessons! She gets a little scraped up during their fights."

"Spars," Audrey corrected.

After seeing what Cassie was doing, Rachel continued, "Whatever, we should probably head inside. The music should start soon..."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Lynne and Azem, thankfully, and no further questions were asked about it. The tense moment passed and Audrey, Rachel, and Cassandra let out a quiet breath of relief.

* * *

Rick stood quietly in the room, looking over the various boys, their dates... and the boys who had no dates. He scrutinized them from behind his goggles to see which ones were likely to be rowdy, didn't think with the head on their shoulders, or were otherwise problematic. He could see several, but he figured there would be at least a few more; the Holy Man must have chosen this school specifically for its peaceful atmosphere. He had done some reconnaissance on the place--students and faculty alike--and had heard the important parts.

Audrey was a puzzle, a quiet one with few managing to get close to her. The general consensus was that she was just an introverted loner that people had decided to leave be. However, with his arrival, some dust kicked up and now there was a renewed buzz of intrigue about her. Rick wasn't sure he liked that and hadn't intended to mess with her carefully built life here on Helion.

He was aware that his arrival would cause change... he just didn't know how much. Rick's musings cut short as he found a few girls--some who were likely as without partner for the dance as Rachel, Lynne, and Audrey--practically circling him like sharks. He ignored them, though.

'_Just kids,_' he thought to himself, '_kids with enough hormones to power a ship's ion drive._'

He focused on the stage, where a band was setting up. It was a local one... he didn't know them. They had a DJ, though, which told him the venue wasn't entirely formal dance. While they prepared things, various hit songs were playing lowly. Some were already dancing. There was a table of refreshments and a punch bowl... carefully guarded against spiking by Audrey's calculus teacher.

He felt someone sliding toward him. A brave girl, perhaps? Definitely female, he could smell it. He turned to face the girl, intending to make it clear he wasn't interested. Head aimed down at teenager height, he was met not with the face of some girl trying to undress him with her eyes, but the defined chest of a woman. His head quickly moved up to see a head of dark hair just starting to lighten.

As per most of their encounters, he began, "Somethin' I can help you with?"

Alexis shook her head, "Audrey's here?"

"Outside."

"I'm glad to finally see her at one of these things. Should be good for her," Zimmy continued, "I see she managed to drag you with her."

"Someone's gotta keep an eye on her," Rick said.

He wasn't specifically worried about her, but if something happened Audrey would likely take care of it herself. And that could turn out in ways that fell under numerous definitions of 'bad.' Not everyone could handle Audrey... but he gave Alexis partial credit for almost-success.

Five entered the room and his attention shifted to them...

* * *

Audrey talked with her friends for a bit after staking out a table of their own around the edges of the gym. There was cake and drinks, to which Audrey helped herself since she didn't think she would be in any rush to dance. After all, she was there, but that didn't mean anyone would want to dance with _her_. Again, her reputation seemed to precede her.

When the music started, Cassie was the first to leave and dance with Azem. Having no dates, Rachel and Lynne lingered with Audrey and spoke of everything and nothing. Audrey, while holding the conversation, simply soaked up the atmosphere. If the shopping was fun, then the levity of the dance was even more so. It was not as lifting as the cheers and urging of a crowd hungry for violence in the pit... but the comparison was awkward. This setting had a more laid back, peaceful feel to it. She could appreciate the difference.

Twenty minutes and several songs from the local band later, Rachel could no longer sit on the sidelines.

"I'm tired of sitting. Let's get out there."

Lynne raised a brow, "But there's no one to dance with. Most of the guys have already paired up and the rest of the picking are..." she paused, trying to state her opinion without putting down her classmates, "less than favorable."

Rachel shrugged, "Who needs boys..."

She stood up and grabbed Lynne's hand, tugging a bit.

"Let's just dance. C'mon, we'll have fun."

After a few seconds of consideration, Lynne decided to go with the moment and joined Rachel. They danced together, traded partners with some other girls for a dance with the boys, and then wove back together. They were simply having their own time and thoroughly enjoying it.

Audrey smiled and watched Rachel drag her friend into the crowded dance floor. Not many others were left on the outskirts of the dance floor. She closed her eyes and felt the people around her... let their sounds and scents wash over her and mix with the beat of the rock music.

She wasn't sure how long she spent there, but suddenly there was a sound of discord. Frowning, she opened her eyes to see it happen right in front of her. Almost in slow motion, she watched as some clumsy boy pitched against his girlfriend after a bump with someone else. The girl stumbled backward and, though the boy caught his footing, the girl had no such luck.

Audrey surged out of her seat, wrapping her left foot around the left back leg of her chair. She swept her leg forward, the chair orbited around her, and she reached for the girl's arm with her left hand. Audrey directed the girl's fall into the chair, bracing her left foot on the bar across the back legs to prevent the chair from sliding back into her. Precariously balanced on her right leg and leaning forward, she counter-balanced herself with her right arm behind her--carefully so, because she was still holding her cup of punch.

The girl sat for a second, confused about what had just happened, but looked up to see Audrey leaning over her. Audrey's attention, momentarily, went to her shoes.

'_Good traction... I think I like these,_' she thought, even though they were girly shoes.

The girl smiled a bit, slightly embarrassed, "Um... thanks."

Audrey shrugged and helped her up, noticing for the first time that more than a few eyes were now upon them. She never did like this much attention... at least, not the awkward sort.

"Don't worry about it. Tell your boyfriend to work on his footwork; there won't always be a convenient chair!"

Was that a normal response? It was hard to always be 'Audrey'; she didn't know the correct thing to say in every situation. Still, as she set her drink back on the table and adjusted her dress to sit back down, she felt it worked out. Attention swiftly left her and the dance continued.

* * *

They had seen the whole thing. She was fast! And, admittedly, quite graceful, too. There was no question of how strong she was; everyone had heard the rumors from fifth-period Phys. Ed. about her and the giant currently standing next to Zimmy having it out on a daily basis. Bruises, scrapes, and cuts were the norm for her after his debut. Audrey Knight was possibly the only girl that could make a red, green, and purple face look beautiful. Even now, she had a few mars upon her face... and it only enhanced the effect.

How she was dressed, however, brought it all home. As though a fallen angel had wrapped its blackened wings about her, she was the night personified. Her calm, almost blank expression added to the inhumanly celestial appearance. Her hair, put up into a styled bun with those pins, gave her a sophisticated appearance that was catching many eyes--from both those with and without partners.

Audrey was alone, but none had dared ask her to dance. Maybe it had something to do with her untouchable nature... and maybe to do with how any male moving in her direction seemed to earn 'Rick's' attention. The boys standing across the room spoke of this and other things as they made observations and evaluations about other girls. Always, their attention wandered back to Audrey.

* * *

She was keenly aware of the attention the boys in the corner paid her even as she amused herself with watching the others dance. There was no telling what they were saying about her, exactly, but the looks on their faces pretty much summed it up. It was an appreciative attention; and while Audrey wasn't overly comfortable with that kind of attention, either, at least they weren't undressing her with their eyes like that first man in the pit had done.

Before she could contemplate her feelings about it any further, Rachel practically came prancing out from the forest of students. There was a light sweat on her brow from her dancing, but she was still grinning. She stopped directly in front of Audrey and bent over, taking Audrey's hands.

"Your turn!"

As she was dragged to her feet, she could only blink, "What about Lynne?"

"She's dancing with the half nearest the stage. I'm dancing with the half near the refreshments."

'_Um... okay?_' Audrey thought, but allowed herself to be dragged onto the dance floor.

The dances so far had been mixed. After eight or so songs of rock, the band would periodically slow the pace down with some slow dance songs to keep from wearing out the crowd with constant high-energy dance music. It took some time, but after three songs, Audrey was dancing as carefree as Rachel was. Rachel seemed to notice her uneasiness to dance with others and, instead of breaking off from her as she had done with Lynne, stayed with Audrey throughout the dances.

Another four songs passed before slow music began to play. Audrey took this to mean it was time for her to sit out the dance, as these songs were danced with a partner; which she didn't exactly have. Rachel surprised Audrey by closing in and putting her arms around her neck. The redhead then repositioned Audrey's arms on her waist.

Somehow, Rachel managed to direct the brunette even though the girl was leading. Audrey felt awkward for several moments, not really knowing what to do or how to react. Wasn't this supposed to be one of those boy-girl things? She was not quite so sure anymore. Nevertheless, she continued to dance and Rachel didn't seem to have any problems with it--she started it, after all.

Come the second slow song, Rachel closed her eyes, rested her head on Audrey's shoulder, and let the Audrey sway them back and forth. Audrey looked ready to question her, but upon seeing the shorter girl's contented expression and small smile, let it go. The next fifteen minutes were spent like this.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Finally, we get to the shopping and dancing. This one's been a long time coming, as well. I do a lot of planning, so sometimes I get ahead of myself and wind up having to write other scenes with that impatience of wanting to get to another. Huge thanks to K-monster, once again, for both the shopping and the dance, which--while I'd planned them out quite a bit--I had lots of trouble getting to work once it came time to write. It took me quite a long time to write these chapters, but I was beyond thrilled with the end results.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	8. 8: Ground Zero: Lucian’s Academy

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 8: Ground Zero: Lucian's Academy_

They watched the girls dance in stupefied fascination. One or two of them might have made comments, though none of them recalled what they were. To say that they were both gorgeous was an understatement

When the slow dances ended, Audrey parted from Rachel and they went to get some punch since both had acquired quite a thirst during the dancing. Audrey already had a cup half-filled and went to the table to get it. Rachel went for a glass of her own by the refreshment tables.

"It is an utter shame that nobody's picked Knight up by now," one of the boys said.

Another boy retorted, "If you're so concerned, go pick her up."

"No way, that guy she's been hangin' with looks like he drinks blood and pisses death. You seen the way he looks at the other guys that come within ten feet of her?"

The second boy grunted, but redirected the line of questioning, "Yo, J.J. ... You had a thing for Knight, right? Why don't you ask her?"

"I said I was interested, not suicidal," J.J. replied.

"Seriously, I think you should try it," said a third boy, "I think she'd like you."

"How d'you figure?" asked the second boy.

The third boy thought about it, then gave up, "I dunno. Just a gut feeling, I guess."

"Maybe it's women's intuition," the first boy said with a smirk.

"Fuck you."

The first boy urged, "C'mon, go for it."

"No," J.J. stiffly refused.

"It can't hurt to ask..." the third pointed out.

"Yeah," J.J. sarcastically returned, "it only hurts when the huge guy's ripping me apart."

"Y'know, I bet he's not so bad once you get to know him," began the second boy in false speculative tone, "Maybe he could even help you out. I could just go over there and explain to him that you have a crush on Knight and-"

J.J. made a swipe at him, which the boy ducked, "Are you insane?"

"Is that rhetorical?" the other boy asked with a smirk as he took a step toward the menacing man with goggles.

J.J. leapt up and pulled the boy back forcefully. Honestly, he wondered about his so-called friends, sometimes. He had no idea whether they were joking or serious half the time. He supposed that was because he never knew when the boys were going to do something unbelievably stupid.

"I'll take my chances! Sit the fuck down, already. Jesus..."

And with that said, he realized his mind had been made up for him. How they always managed to corner him like this he would never know. Someday, though, he would get them back with something that would totally knock them on their asses. Yeah... if he survived.

* * *

"So you're just going to stand here all night?" Alexis asked skeptically.

Rick gave an indifferent shrug, "For her sake."

Zimmy raised a brow.

"What's that mean?"

"She wouldn't have come otherwise and she'd leave if I slipped out. Audrey needs this, to see how it can be." Rick took a moment to think, and the frown was more pensive than worried, "I know her; she's likely gonna want to ship with me after she graduates.

"Life's not glamorous on the shipping lanes and she knows that, but she has to know what she's givin' up. Gotta give her a chance."

"You're sure she'll choose to go with you?"

Alexis wondered how he could sound so positive about Audrey's choices in life. From what she had gathered, he hadn't been around for at least four years. A lot can change in a girl in five years, especially when they were young.

"This should be interesting."

She blinked, trying to figure out what he meant, and then realized that his attention was no longer on her. Instead, he was focused on a boy walking toward Audrey. Zimmy had watched him scowl at most boys that came near her and had formed something of a barrier that the boys were almost instinctually skirting. She couldn't blame him. This boy however, was making a beeline for her.

She noticed that he hadn't answered her question, but suspected that he wasn't going to...

* * *

The second boy's brows rose, "Wow, he's really going for it."

"Bet he won't ask, though," said the first.

He retorted, "Bet you he will."

A tense moment developed and the two boys stared at each other. Finally, the first boy pulled out a wallet.

"How much?"

After a moment's hesitation, he answered, "Ten UDs."

"You're on," the first agreed, reaching for a chip with ten UDs.

"I'll hold the pot," offered the third boy, who was watching all with interest.

"If he asks... how about another ten that she turns him down?"

The second boy weighed the odds in his head. His confidence won, "Works for me."

* * *

Audrey noticed the boy moving toward her almost as soon as he started over from his friends. He looked nervous, but she couldn't quite blame him; she knew Rick was playing guard dog and that had seriously lowered her chances of finding someone to dance with her. Peering around him as he came up to her, she saw his friends passing UD cards.

'_Isn't that just great, now I'm the object of bets,_' she mentally groused, and then an idea struck her. It was underhanded, but it would serve them right. '_I shouldn't... but I'm going to..._'

The boy had light brown hair and a medium build as far as teenagers were concerned, and was a few inches taller than herself. His blue eyes flicked a bit nervously, but mostly fixed on her. This could be fun.

"Would, uh... I was just wondering, y'know... um..."

"Dance?" Audrey supplied.

"...Yeah," he said, apparently thankful for her help.

'_Poor guy, what a wreck,_' she thought, but continued, "What's your name?"

"J.J. j-J.C. ... er, Jack."

At this rather complicated answer, she raised a brow.

He rambled on at her silence, "Jack Connors. J.J. 'cause my middle name's Jarret, J.C. 'cause of my last name. ... Of course, y-you can call me whatever you want..."

"So, 'whatever-you-want,'" she said with a small smirk, "What's the pool?"

He stared dumbly at her, "Huh?"

She deadpanned, "Your friends. They're making bets."

The boy's mouth dropped for a second, and then closed. He then made to turn around, his head whipping over his shoulder.

"Th-they're what?" he asked incredulously.

She grabbed his arms to jerk him back to facing her, "No, no, no--don't look! The Hell's wrong with you?"

Suddenly, Jack felt very stupid. This was a bad idea. He should not be dawdling here when she obviously was not taking too well to his poor attempt at asking her to dance. She hadn't even answered him, yet! Perhaps it was time to cut his losses and back off before she, or worse, 'Rick' decided to remove him.

"Um... I-I should-"

Audrey interrupted, "-introduce me to your friends."

He paused and wondered if he had heard her right, "Are you sure?"

"C'mon," she said, standing up and tugging on his arm as she made her way toward the boys.

Audrey was escorted over, in a sense. She more or less dragged Jack with her until the surprised boys were looking up at her. Perfect. She supposed that looking good did have its perks. They weren't thinking... at least, not with their heads... which made this little manipulation quite easy.

Without preamble, she addressed the nearest boy, "So... how much you got riding on this?"

"What?" the first boy asked, noticeably starting at her blatant query.

Audrey gave him a slight look and focused on the boy in the middle, still caught up about Audrey Knight standing in front of him. He was so caught up, in fact, that he held the two UD cards in a limp grasp. Honestly, she didn't know whether to be exasperated or amused. She spoke slowly to him, as if he were brain-dead.

"How ma-ny U-ni-ver-sal De-nom-in-a-tions is the bet?"

He blinked, glancing down to the UDs in his hand and then back to her. In a suddenly sheepish voice, he replied, "Twenty UDs..."

* * *

Alexis watched them keenly. She couldn't make out what was being said, but Audrey's body language spoke volumes.

"Thought you wanted to keep her out of trouble?"

What could best be described as a sadistic sneer crossed Rick's face.

"_Gotta_ see this, though..."

* * *

Audrey remained silent for a moment, her expression unreadable as she stared at them. Slowly, the boys began to squirm under her quiet, assessing gaze. The air of discomfort riddled the small atmosphere of five people. When she felt the weight of the moment had sunk in, her voice broke through the background of music.

"Okay, here's how it's gonna work," her tone broached no dispute, "You give me the UDs and I'll dance with one of you."

Now _that_ was too good to be true! The first boy smacked the third boy in the arm, who then started and held out the two chips for her. Twenty UDs was well worth the chance to dance with Audrey Knight. They all wore hopeful looks and barely restrained grins.

Audrey took the UD cards and put them securely in her dress, where it would be quite impossible to retrieve in a gentlemanly manner. Their mouths dropped as they watched the card disappear into the top of her dress. She smiled pleasantly.

"Nice..." she said, and then cleared her throat, "I'm up here."

Four heads jerked up to her face and her smile turned into a smirk. They were all looking at her expectantly.

"Now... I agreed to dance with one of you, so I will." She paused, just to let the anticipation build. "'course, only one that had the balls to walk over and ask me to dance was Jack, here... so..."

She grabbed Jack's arm and led him toward the dance floor, "Let's go."

Behind her, three gaping stares followed her departure.

* * *

Zimmy couldn't believe what Audrey had just done, but she was shaken out of her thoughts by the sudden, short bark of a laugh. Riddick's wicked smile had grown and was threatening to split his face.

"Now _that_ was a real, class act."

"Aren't you worried about that boy?"

He crossed his arms, that satisfied grin never leaving, "Him? A gnat would be more threatening."

* * *

By the refreshment table, Rachel stood with her drink, facing the dance floor. She turned red when she saw Audrey take the UD cards and stuff them down her dress. The redhead had no idea what the circumstances behind that little episode were, but she was determined to find out after the dance.

* * *

Jack wasn't as good a dancer as Rachel, but Audrey still had fun. He was more than a tad nervous with the slow dances, too, but thankfully, Audrey had some inkling of what to do after dancing with Rachel. For almost two hours, they danced and they eventually managed to synchronize with each other's movements.

For Jack it was unbelievable; he had always watched Audrey from the halls and they had no classes together, so he distantly admired her. Barring issues of Rick and the fact that they had no classes together, she rarely stuck around after school and was usually with her friends. Finding a moment when she was alone to ask her to the dance without feeling foolish if she turned him down in front of her friends was a big factor.

For Audrey, she appreciated the attention, fully aware that he was probably too shy and scared to try anything with her. That reassurance allowed her to loosen up and have fun with this boy she had literally just met. Normally, she would have some reservations about being so unguarded around any male she hadn't spent a fair amount of time evaluating. But since this was, as Zimmy put it, 'a dance not a fight' and he was practically harmless to her, she felt she could afford it.

Eventually, they both seemed to tire. Audrey could have gone on, but wouldn't mind a break. Jack looked a little flushed and his clothes were heavier than hers, so she imagined he was probably a bit overheated in the crowd. Already, a fair number of couples had taken breaks to grab a drink and rest their feet. Audrey gave in and brought Jack over to the table where she and her friends were sitting. All four of them were there to greet them.

"I see you caught yourself a partner," Cassie said with a grin.

Audrey grew a proud, somewhat mischievous smile and enigmatically returned, "This is Jack. He won the lottery."

Rachel stared at her and slowly put two-and-two together with what she had witnessed before. Most of it made sense, but she had to wonder what the boys were doing with the money they gave her beforehand. However, she had a sneaking suspicion that brought her mind back to the night before...

"Think the draw was a little fixed?" she asked with a raised brow.

Audrey shrugged, but kept her smile.

The conversation between them started up, but Audrey was keeping track of other things. She glanced toward Rick briefly, to fix that he was still there. For some reason, the idea of him leaving during the dance bothered her. After she found him still standing next to Zimmy, she turned to refocus on the conversation. A sudden yelling, however, quickly diverted her attention.

"Get your own guy, bitch!" some voice rang from the crowd.

"It's not my fault you can't hang onto him. If he wants to dance with me, then butt out," was the scathing reply.

Mrs. Zimmerman shoved off from the wall and moved into the parting crowd to deal with the conflict. Audrey couldn't see what was happening, but the prospect of a fight faintly interested her. Granted, it was likely going to be a catfight with no real style... but such things easily distracted Audrey. She was still faintly aware of the conversation at the table, though.

Rachel had to ask the boy, "So, Jack, aren't you worried about Rick?"

Jack and Audrey simultaneously replied, "Why?"

Suddenly, Audrey was fully drawn back to the conversation at the table due to the lack of said conversation. Everyone was looking at her. Shit! Azem, Lynne, and Jack were staring at her oddly and Cassandra and Rachel had identical expression of wide, darting eyes.

'_Think fast, think fast..._' she opened her mouth again and paved over her statement, "I-I mean... why would he be? I chose to dance with Jack and Rick knows I can handle myself."

'_Smooth, Audrey..._' Cassie thought and winced slightly as she hoped the others bought it.

Even though it was odd, the others seem to let it go, willing to chalk it up to a coincidence of some sort. The conversation lasted a bit longer and the dance wound down. As the last song played, a classic slow song, only a few couples were left on the dance floor. Audrey looked over to Rachel.

"Thanks for convincing me to come to this thing. I had more fun than I thought I would."

Rachel smiled, "I knew you'd like it. Are you going to come to the one at the end of the year?"

Audrey thought about it, "I'm not really sure... but I won't outright say no. I guess I'll just see how I feel about it in a few months."

In the end, that was a better response than she had been expecting, which made the redhead feel accomplished. Cassie cast a glance at Rachel, letting her know she wanted particulars on everything.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and realized it was Rick moving toward them. Audrey also noticed the slight tension created by his presence among Azem, Lynne, and Jack. When he came up behind her, she leaned the seat backward and tilted her head back to look up at his goggled face.

"What's up... 'sides you?"

"Be out in the 'car."

She nodded, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

With that, he turned around and left the group to their own devices. Audrey was perilously balancing the chair as she faced forward again. She raised an arm and the chair clopped forward. Finishing off her second cup of punch, she smiled and stretched contentedly.

"Well, I should get going. I'll see you guys on Monday?"

* * *

After a small round of goodbyes, she went out to the 'car and got in. The drive back was spent in companionable silence and she leaned her head against the window with a slight smile on her lips most of the ride to Imam's house.

He opened her door and once again helped her out of the car. She was at the doorstep before she realized he was still beside the 'car. She only had to look at him to surmise what was happening. What she had not expected was the flash of jealously that burnt through her for a few seconds before she harshly stuffed it into some dark corner of her mind.

"Goin' out?"

He only gave her a look that was a general confirmation of her supposition.

'_Why?_' she thought.

"Can I come?" she asked instead.

She wasn't sure exactly what possessed her to ask such a thing. Audrey knew what he was going and what he would be doing. But for some reason, she had asked anyway. Maybe it was best that she not think too much on it. She tried, but the ghost of a question lingered in her mind.

'_Why...?_'

He didn't tell her no, but he didn't have to. All he said was, "Don't wait up."

She nodded and went inside. After closing the door, she rested her back against it, head thunking against it. 'Don't wait up.' She knew what it meant; even though he didn't always use that exact phrase, he would always leave some parting comment before he went off.

In her mind, she saw _that woman_ again. Jack had followed Riddick that one time on Libra 9. Followed him to that small building with the women... And the one that went upstairs with him, the one that practically _hung_ on his arm and wore a forest green dress that matched the deep emerald hues peering in through the crack in the boarded windows.

'_Why...?_' she thought again, this time more angrily.

Finally, she decided to voice the question rebounding in her head. It came out with such petulance and jealousy that it startled her. She wasn't aware she could sound that way...

"Why not me? What's wrong with _me_?"

* * *

Imam, who had been clearing the last of the plates in the dining room from the dinner recently eaten, paused when Jack came through the door. He was about to welcome her home and ask how the dance was when she leaned against the door looking less than satisfied. Had the dance not gone well? And then she said something peculiar.

"Is something the matter, Jack?"

He noticed her nearly jump at his voice. Her head whipped toward him and she stared at him wide-eyed. Suddenly, her face turned red--why, he couldn't begin to hazard a guess.

"No!" she said in a high-pitched voice that surprised them both. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time in a calmer tone, "...uh... No. I'm... just gonna go upstairs... Change and stuff..."

She all but fled up the stairs, leaving Imam alone with his own thoughts and more than a bit bewildered. Finally, he gathered up the last of the plates and walked to the kitchen. Slowly, he shook his head from side to side while his thoughts took a rare turn for the sarcastic; he just _couldn't wait_ for Ziza to grow up...

* * *

"Sure this's the one, Logan?"

Eve sighed and replied, once again, "For the last time, Toombs, _yes_. We checked five schools already and the only one with tan bottoms and white blouses was this one. The others were all green, or blue, or casual."

Toombs and Eve had made a run out to this school; everyone was in pairs with Terry running communications back on their ship. Dahlven and Reis had scouted out three other schools in the area. This was the only one that featured the particular dress code. Currently, there was some kind of event finishing--from the outfits, likely a dance.

Toombs leaned against the wall and thought about how they had arrived at _Lucian's Academy_...

* * *

_ "An' yer sure it was our guy," demanded Toombs._

_ "Big fucker, lookin' at the world through weldin' goggles?"_

_ "Well, shit. If you got somethin' for us... we can make it worth your while. Five-hundred UDs if you can tell us everything you remember."_

_ "Awright. It was like this... I was at the pit--the fightin' circuit 'round here--and was up a K. That's when I notice this huge motherfucker walk in the door. Personally, I was ready to bet on his ass the whole night. But that's just the thing..."_

_ Toombs grunted his interest._

_ "Followin' this huge guy is some girl. And I mean girl--high school teen, y'know? So _he_ sponsors_ her_ in the pit! Now I'm thinkin' this's easy money. The little bitch goes in her prelim match and takes down the guy in E-10, then goes for top position in E. She goes through both of 'em like they weren't even there."_

_ And _now_ Toombs was interested. Looked like Ol' Dickhead got himself a disciple. He grinned... this had the makings of a two-for-one deal!_

_ "So... then she goes for D-Rank. By now I've lost two-hundred UDs on the little cunt. And the bald fucker's jus' standing there like he was watchin' paint dry. Anyhow... I know for sure that this one guy, Kuromori, is the shit. One of them martial arts freaks straight outta on o' them classic vids, y'know? Bet on him over the past two weeks and made myself a damn fine profit. I figure, what the fuck, y'know?_

_ "Seems pretty even to begin with, but she gets the drop on _him_, too! Fuck all if I didn't lose all o' last week's winnings. That right there was enough to drive me bugfuck. An' that ain't even the strangest part o' the bit."_

_ By now, even Eve was finding it hard to believe this could get any stranger. Riddick with a woman, sure. They'd talked to hookers before. But a _girl_? As far as she knew, his tastes didn't run _that_ way._

_ "What do you mean?" she asked, all business as usual._

_ "After the girl finishes up in the pit, _another_ girl joins them. This one don't even fit the scene. I mean, this one's even smaller than the last; an' she's carryin' some shoppin' bag. Was wearin' some kinda school uniform, too! Some woman's with the girl... don't think it was the mother of either girl. Saw the four of 'em leave together._

_ "An' _that_... is hard to forget. So when you ask me if that's the guy... sure as shit had to be, if you ask me."_

_ Already, the mercs were thinking along the same line. Eve asked the question._

_ "The girl, the one in the school uniform... Can you describe the uniform and what she looked like?"_

_ "Was one o' them fancy schools. White shirt, had an emblem on it--couldn't read it, though. Had a tan skirt, though. Girl was a tiny redhead, 'bout up to here," he put a hand low on his chest, "Short hair. Nothin' really special... kinda mousy."_

_ '_We got ourselves a lead..._' Toombs thought with a grin._

* * *

"So this is it, huh?" Reis asked as he caught up with Logan and Toombs. Dahlven was trailing behind him... the fat fuck needed to go on a diet.

"_Lucian's Academy_. This's it. If that girl goes to the same school as the redhead, then chances are someone's seen her or Riddick. Or both..."

Toombs seemed for the entire world that he wasn't paying attention to a word they had said. His head was leaned back against the wall with his trademark shit-eating smirk in place. He reached up to scratch at one of his sideburns, then cracked an eye open.

"Shut the fuck up."

Everyone paused and glanced at him. A few seconds passed and he just stood there...

"Toombs, what-" Dahlven began but was cut off.

Still smirking, but with an irritated voice, he repeated himself, "Just shut the fuck up."

Almost twenty seconds passed as the others glanced between themselves. Finally, a group of girls came walking by the alley where they were occupying. They were giggling.

"I can't believe Jeff tried to cop a feel," said one girl.

The other girl huffed, "Yeah, well I'm sure he's still _feel_ing my hand across his face."

"Anyway, did you see tall, bald, and scary? He didn't do anything but stand there all night and ignore everyone."

The second girl shrugged, "Don't you mean tall, bald, and _sexy_? And I think I saw him talk to Zimmy a few times."

"I can't believe Knight gets to go home with that... Lucky bitch..."

Toombs turned to face the rest of his crew and his smirk grew into a full grin. He lit a cigarette and took a long, relaxed drag from it. He flicked the bits of ash and blew a smoke ring into the air.

"An' that, boys 'n' girls, is the power of the Golden Rule. We're done here. Hope y'all brushed up on yer readin', writin', an' arithmetic, 'cause we're goin' to school..."

* * *

It was Sunday. Some felt secure on this day and called it holy. The foolish believed that it somehow provided them protection. But danger can come at any time in many levels of severity. The world at large was oblivious to the dangers that were unseen and unfelt. In fact, some dangers even lacked physical form. And those, perhaps, were the worst dangers of all. Defending against something without shape was hard, and matters became more complicated without knowledge of how or when the next attack would come.

Cerberus slipped through the vast and infinite depths of cyberspace. There were no boundaries they could not cross. No doors they could not open. And there was absolutely _nothing_ they could not find. Aptly named, they were the hounds of Hell and they were on the hunt.

The very concept was enraging. It would be to any hacker. The use of another's alias was strictly forbidden... much less to do something like robbing a bank--something so cliché and dirty that most hackers despised the very idea. So far, they had lain low... had not put out the word they were searching. But they were. Oh, were they ever.

Aeacus entered cyberspace, quickly joined by Minos and Rhadamanthus. It was a methodical and tedious search, but a speedy one. It did not take much time for them to begin again.

#Hello, boys,# Aeacus greeted, #Ready to find that trail?#

#_Always_,# replied Rhadamanthus.

Minos agreed, #I am ready.#

As always, they began with Aquilan Banking Trust. All transactions from the date of the crime had to be traced. The UDs bounced around from one place to another, at times, but usually made it to its defined destination. Lately, however, they had been cracking into the bank's report list and double-checking with Alliance complaint records.

These lines of transactions were the ones that interested them. They followed the transactions throughout their course; and they did wander madly. They had withdrawn and deposited at different dates, they had jumped to different accounts with different banks, and sometimes the money was split again and the process repeated.

A spider web of numbers filled the screen, so much so that it hurt the eyes. But Cerberus was relentless, driven for retribution and restitution. Eventually, the UDs had to arrive at their destination... and they would be watching for that final stop. For days, though, the money simply bounced around, divided, converged, and redistributed. There had been seventeen lines that Cerberus had verified as the stolen money. There were more, they knew.

They weren't going to touch the UDs, though. Not yet. When one of the seventeen transactions found its resting place, they would find the owner of the account. Then, hopefully, that person's com would contain the algorithm for the stolen Universal Denominations' transactions. With the algorithm, Cerberus could find all the money--and, through backtracking (another tedious undertaking), replace the proper amounts to the correct accounts.

Once they had all the UDs marked, they would alert Sentry Sector and suspend the UDs. Then it was just a matter of waiting for Sentry to pick up the person or persons responsible. It wasn't, technically, their justice... but Cerberus realized it was bigger than their pride.

...But no one said they couldn't fry the coms of their quarry.

#I swear to God I'm going to turn their coms into so much slag!#

Minos was placating, #Patience, Aeacus. We need to find them first.#

#I know, I know. Where do we stand on fragmentation?# asked Aeacus.

Rhadamanthus was monitoring the split transactions, #17 threads, each broken into 3 sub-threads. Of those 51, 23 of them broke into 14 sub-threads. The total number of threads stands at 350.#

#_Three-hundred-fifty_ threads? I don't know if that's brilliance or idiocy. How could they keep up with that many threads bouncing from account to account?#

#I do not know. However, logically, this is a good thing,# replied Minos.

#How do you figure?#

Rhadamanthus came back with the answer, #With more threads, the chances of one of those parcels of UDs arriving at the final destination is increased.#

#I hadn't thought of that.#

#You've just been staring at the numbers too long,# Rhadamanthus answered in what was probably a gesture of comfort.

#Perhaps you should take a break.#

#_No_,# replied Aeacus, #I have to sort this out as quickly as possible.#

The numbers streamed across three monitors, the data dizzying to the normal eye... unless one was smart enough to recognize what they were looking at. The jumbled mess of figures was like yarn... All they had to do was follow it through this labyrinth of accounts.

#There is no way to tell when a transaction will reach the final account,# Minos pointed out.

Rhadamanthus added, #We'll alert you the moment it stops. You need to rest... we aren't the ones that need to wake up in a few hours.#

All the numbers were beginning to give Aeacus a migraine. Perhaps it would be better to rest for a bit and come back to it later. After some consideration, the hacker gave into to Minos and Rhadamanthus' idea.

#Okay, but I'm leaving the com on so you can tell me the second something happens. Can you keep me secure while I'm not here?#

#No problem,# replied Rhadamanthus.

Aeacus didn't like breaking up the Triad during their work. Still, two-thirds of Cerberus was more than enough for what they were doing and there was little use in continuing when one's effectiveness began to suffer. Aeacus took off the headset and went to lie down. The hacker hadn't been getting enough sleep, lately, and could do with more.

That night, under the watch of Minos and Rhadamanthus, the com remained on as a beacon of hope and guided Aeacus' dreams into the realm of comfort and peace. It was a change, because the dreams of late had been frantic and foreboding...

'_I wonder why..._'

Perhaps it was better not to think about it. Other, more important things needed attention than vague feelings that didn't help.

* * *

Cassandra woke slowly and contentedly. Last night had been a fun and informative. After talking with Rachel, she realized just how much work had really gone into Audrey's arrival. For a few days, she had felt slightly out of the loop with those two. Then again, she had been paying a bit more attention to tutoring Azem and trying to get him to notice her. She felt better about it, now.

As she got ready and ate breakfast while watching the news, she wondered what would be in store for her today. She wanted to talk to Audrey, as well, since she wanted to hear about yesterday from her perspective. Looking at the world through Audrey's eyes always proved interesting.

Cassie caught up with Audrey and Rachel on the way to school. Rachel looked a bit more tired than usual and Audrey oddly contemplative. She asked both what was wrong, but only received a vague reply from the redhead. The brunette had no idea what was bothering her, but told her it was 'just a feeling.'

The first four classes went on as usual and there wasn't much time for chatting, so Cassie decided that she would be able to talk to them during lunch. Time passed sluggishly and she had to admit that she was paying less attention to her classes than she was the clock. She doodled a bit on her com's note program.

One of them included a cartoon Audrey in a post-throwing position. The rest of the depiction showed Rick with exaggerated goggle-eyes set in a scowl with a snarled mouth. His shoulders were hunched and his fists clenched. Impact lines spidered out from his head and a small ball arcing away with a trailing cloud of stuffing. She finished with some stuffing resting on his shoulders.

Lunch rolled around and the girls went to the cafeteria. After getting their lunches from the wide selection of food-prep machines, they moved to their regular tables. Cassandra was just about to strike up a conversation with Audrey when a shadow fell over their table. All three looked up to see a boy... specifically, Jack Connors.

"What's up, whatever-you-want?" Audrey asked.

Jack stared at her oddly for a moment before he realized he told her 'you can call me whatever you want' the last night and she had responded in the same fashion. He blushed a bit and cleared his throat.

"I was, uh, wondering if I could sit with you..."

Audrey glanced to Rachel and Cassie. They looked back to her--she didn't notice any rejection from them... So she nodded.

"It's a free universe."

It wasn't really, but it was a phrase people liked to tell themselves to reassure them and fill themselves with hope. The truth was that most of the universe worked on a ruler/subjugated, victor/conquered, master/slave sort of unspoken law. However, Audrey didn't say as much simply because it would make for an awkward situation.

"How're you today?" Jack asked in such a way that had Rachel and Cassie glancing at each other.

"Meh," Audrey noised, "Weird dreams... I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I hadn't slept at all. I got back to sleep after a bit, but I'm still a bit..."

She made a weak, iffy gesture with her hand. He had asked and she was not up to bullshitting him. All through the day, she had been feeling strange--she could not place exactly what the feeling was, but it was uncomfortable. And there was a vague sense that it had to do with the wacky dream.

Rachel's curiosity got the best of her, "What was it?"

Audrey shook her head, indicating she had nothing to say about her dream, but went on to describe it, "So... I'm planet-side somewhere--nowhere I've ever been. The foliage is mostly brown 'cause I'm in this kind of half-dead undergrowth of overgrown jungle area... I have no idea where I'm going, but I can see some light ahead, breaking through the trees. I figure that's as good a way to go as any, just if I can get out of the jungle to see where I am, y'know?

"'cept when I reach the edge, the sun's really bright and I can't see anything 'cause I've been under the canopy the whole time. Before my eyes can adjust, I hear something behind me and I turn around to see this guy that looks like Rick, at least in form. But he's, like, wearing some kind of cloth wrap instead of pants--and that's pretty much it. His eyes are like blue suns and what hair I can see is blood red."

"Um... wow," Jack said. Just imagining the guy scared him more than Rick... or maybe just because he could compare the man to Rick by Audrey's comparison. "So, uh... What happened?"

Audrey grumbled lowly, "Nothing. I woke up after that. I mean, he startled me 'cause he was only about five yards from me... I think he was going to say something before I woke up, and it's really bugging me for some reason."

Cassie raised a brow. She'd had some strange dreams before, of course... but something like that was really out of place--the vivid details especially held her interest. The blonde rarely remembered any specific elements in her dreams; the elements Audrey was pulling out made _her_ uneasy! Rachel, for her part, was now frustrated. If Audrey hadn't added that last sentence, she might have been fine. Now, however, she wanted to know what the man in her dream was going to say almost as much as Audrey did.

Cassandra decided the change the topic. After all, she still wanted to hear Audrey's perspective on the events leading up to the dance. The curiosity was killing her and she had to ask.

"So... where did you wind up going to get that gorgeous dress?"

Audrey felt the utterly irrational and senseless need to gush the entire episode of Saturday to her friends in an exited voice with every inane detail possible. When she felt she had sufficiently crushed this notion, she opened her mouth. Her attempts, though valiant, were for naught as the entire story began rushing out from her; she was unsure who was more startled.

"Well, at first we went to this store with these God-awful, ugly dresses with everything you can imagine attached to them, there were sparkly bits and ribbons... all sorts of unbelievable stuff. And I swear to shit, there was this pale, yellow monstrosity there that shoulda been lit on fire... if the waves of evil rolling off it didn't protect it... and I was about to say something to Rach when this, this lady walks over like she's the queen of the system and drinks from tiny teacups and eats fish eggs-"

"Caviar," Rachel supplied.

Audrey nodded vaguely, barely paying attention, "Yeah that, anyway... She tries to put me into some of this stuff straight from the Land of Rainbows and Flowers and I let her know that there's no way in Hell I'm 'bout to jump into anything of the sort."

Cassandra had gotten the simple and direct version from Rachel, but hearing Audrey tell it as though it were a dungeon of horrors proved more entertaining than she could have hoped. She fought back a smile but couldn't help it. When she glanced to Jack, who was now looking at Audrey with a strange look that crossed between bewilderment and shock, she burst out laughing. Although she could not blame him--not really--this was possibly the most speaking Audrey had ever done on a single topic that wasn't extremely serious.

"So what'd she do?"

"She was absolutely nuts about her junk... I think she feared for the safety of the demonic dresses, 'cause she told us to go to her friend. By now, I was worried that anyone she knew would be as crazy as she was. But Rach insisted that we try it, anyway. She turned out to be just as insane as I thought she'd be, but she was wicked when it came to finding something I could tolerate."

Rachel decided to cut in, "But you loved the dress! It was perfect... You even bought two of them!"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow and Audrey turned an interesting shade of red. No one needed to know about the second dress! She didn't want to be thought of as 'girly.' She grumbled and continued.

"_Anyway_," she forged on, trying to break their attention away from that piece of minutiae, "after that, Rach helped me find some shoes and the woman there kept trying to shove these shoes with spikes on the heels on my feet. I told her that if I had to do one more walk-about in another pair I would kick a hole in a lung of the next person I saw... So we ended up with some slippers.

"Then, for some reason, I _had_ to get my nails painted with this foul smelling stuff. All the girl there did was bitch and moan about my nails the whole time! I told her that it happens when you hit things a lot and it couldn't be helped. I mean, my knuckles always get a little bloody after spars, y'know? The girl started going into hysterics for some reason and Rachel had to calm her down."

"You told her the polish looked like you'd dipped your fingers in a pool of blood," Rachel contested.

"Well, it _did_."

Jack let out a small snicker, which he unsuccessfully tried to cover as a cough. Rachel looked at him askance and shot him a slightly annoyed look. It wasn't funny! They called security because the woman was, by Audrey's words, 'being a hissy-fit priss.' There wasn't much she could say to deny that fact, but the girl didn't seem to sense she should stop exacerbating the situation...

"Finally, I went to this salon where they did my hair up and they bitched and moaned to me _again_, this time about me taking care of my _hair_. I really liked it, actually. Especially those sharp needles they put in my hair. They don't like it when you bring any sort of weapons to school, but they'll let me waltz about with those wicked things? Who'm I to call 'em hypocrites?"

Cassie smiled a bit; whether out of humor or exasperation, she wasn't sure.

"Um... Audrey, I don't think that was the poin-..."

A tone rang through the intercoms, signaling the end of lunch. The three girls--and boy--moved to the small conveyor belt, where they placed their trays. The belt would move the trays, silverware, plates, and bowls to the back of the kitchen where the staff could clean them. Machines were available to do this menial task for centuries, but it remained a fact that if you wanted something done right, it was often best to do it yourself.

"Audrey, could I talk to you for a moment?" Jack asked, in a typical fashion that girls across the systems recognized.

Audrey blinked at him, as though she didn't quite understand what was happening, "Uh... sure."

Knowingly, Cassandra and Rachel quietly continued out into the hall without their friend and moved away a 'respectable' distance to give her some 'privacy.' It was somewhat counterproductive, because they fully intended to milk Audrey for details the very second she joined them...

Jack made a small, vague gesture of his right hand, "I was wondering if you were doing anything this Friday?"

"I dunno," Audrey said while scratching the back of her head in thought, "I guess it depends on what Rick's planning to do to me."

Jack blinked, wondering if she understood the number of ways someone could interpret that, but he decided to play it safe and not mention it. Instead, he forged on with his original plan. "If you're free, would you like to go with me to the Caverns?"

"Um... sure?" the girl replied in more of a questioning voice than an affirmation. The look on her face suggested that she felt a tad out of place. '_Did he just...?_'

"Okay," he said with a satisfied grin that looked a little goofy on him, "Let me know what your schedule looks like with the big guy and we'll work something out."

'_Riddick's gonna have kittens-_' she thought, but she just nodded blankly in response.

With that, Jack waved, turned, and left with an energetic gait and that goofy smile plastered on his face.

Audrey stood there for a moment, staring after him. She contemplated what she had just agreed to and what it meant. A date. She had just been asked out. And she had said yes! Why did she say that? Admittedly, Jack wasn't a bad guy, but did she want to go out with him--or anyone?

'_Okay, be honest, there is _one_ person you want... but anyone else?_'

She didn't have that answer.

Shaking her head, Audrey realized she still stood in the same spot for the past five minutes and was about to be late for Phys. Ed. She quickly gathered her pack and ran out into the hall. She stopped herself just shy of colliding with Cassandra, who was waiting just around the corner with Rachel.

Audrey had time to blink before they started questioning her. She motioned for them to walk while they talked, not wanting to be late for class.

"Are you going to go out with him?" Rachel immediately asked.

"Did he ask you to go to the Caverns?" Cassie inquired on the heels of Rachel's question.

Audrey was honestly a bit creeped out and stared at her friends, "How do you know what he wanted to talk to me about?"

"Why _else_ would he have asked to speak with you alone?" Cassandra responded, "Of course he was going to ask you out."

It was another one of those 'Jack-gaps'; Audrey had little understanding of the intricacies of relationships beyond that of friendship. She filed this away for future thought, deciding to ask Imam since her friends probably wouldn't be able to put it into proper terms. When a boy asked to speak to her alone, they wanted to ask her out on a date? That didn't seem right... Whatever.

"Um... yeah, he did--and I said I'd have to ask Rick whether or not I'll have the time. He keeps me pretty busy. I suppose it's one of those _things_ to know what he was going to ask, but I don't get how you knew _where_ he was gonna ask me to go..."

Cassie rolled her eyes, Audrey had the romantic sense of a rock. "The Solaris Crystal Caverns are rated as the most popular romantic site in the Helion System. People travel from other systems just to see it!"

Cassie sighed. Audrey had never been asked out before and her first date wanted to take her there. Cassie's dates had never asked her to go to the Caverns; her parents wouldn't have let her, anyhow. They considered it a place she 'wasn't old enough to go to on a date.' She'd been there before as a kid, but apparently going there as a romantic outing made it different. Then again, she'd heard the stories--about this or that boy or girl that a friend of a friend of a friend knew that got caught making out with his or her date by the janitor or security guard making rounds. Not that she could see that happening with Audrey!

Cassandra's thoughts took a turn toward what she'd read about the Caverns, remembering the facts along with what she'd seen and experienced as a child. She envied Audrey for this chance; maybe she could get Azem to take her some time...

Throughout the planet, there were veins of special crystals formed by strange minerals of the sandy world. Heliotite, also called, "sun-wind crystal," was a clear, prism-like stone with the special property of collecting and distributing light. The particulars were long and complicated, but the simple explanation was that photons entered heliotite, but moved through the crystal at a very slow speed. The effect was that, as the stones absorbed light, they remained glowing for long after the source of light halted, until all the light it had absorbed exited the crystal. Due to their prism-like nature, sun-wind crystals often glowed with different colors, depending on how the light refracted, which provided a veritable rainbow of colors in a perpetually changing flow.

Because of their unique light-holding properties, the people of Helion Prime mined and refined the crystals for various uses for a short time. Shortly after this, however, their properties were examined and it was determined that it would be possible to create the crystals rather than wait on nature. Crystallization chambers were set up to manufacture man-made crystals from mineral extract. The scientists and architects then carved out these purified crystals and placed them into mirror-backed lenses, where they would absorb the light of their day and beam it up into space. This was how the people of Helion Prime shared their light with the rest of the Helion System through numerous towers.

The largest concentration of heliotite was near New Mecca, in a system of interconnected tunnels and chambers. There were veins of the sun-wind crystal throughout the caves. This deposit was left untouched, but was--and is still--frequently visited by people. The caves, called the Solaris Crystal Caverns, had three points of entry. These openings on the surface absorbed light through the deposits near the mouth of the cave, which connected to various veins. The light then had to traverse through the veins of crystal like glowing blood before it could escape.

The view was quite amazing, and the various streams and lakes within the massive caverns made for an even more amazing view as the light shimmered in the waters. Depending on the distance from the source of light, the stones can go from searing to balmy. Most of the caverns, despite their depth, remain quite warm due to the heat the light-imbued crystals radiate.

The underground supported a number of life forms, as well, most harmless (unless one was stupid enough to eat one of the poisonous creatures). The largest concentration of these life forms could be found in the Solaris Crystal Caverns, but were not exclusive to the location. Specifically, the pythoplecs, which had a distinct similarity to most snakes of Earth. Pythoplecs could grow to be anywhere between one and three feet in length, and were no thicker than four inches around. They were generally brown to black in color, sometimes with black spots in the lighter colored of the two. They had two, beady, red eyes set to the sides atop its head that saw the infrared range.

The largest difference came on its mouth, which was a long, tubular snout with no teeth. It had only a rough tongue and powerful suction muscles in its maw; it survived off the algae and fungus that grew on the crystals in the underground streams and lakes. Pythoplecs required near constant light and warmth to survive, which made the crystals an obvious hub of life for them. Nests could be found all over the planet wherever there were 'lit' crystals and a water source. Pythoplecs became a popular pet on Helion Prime shortly after their discovery.

Cassandra's older sister, Dawn, had a pythoplec in an aquarium in her apartment. His name was Nagendra. He simply loved Dawn and herself, coiling his long, warm body around their hands and arms. That was likely because they were a heat source, but she didn't care--it was still cute as anything. Nagendra was one of the longer ones, about three feet and light brown in color. It had medium sized black dots speckling its body, but only one, large black dot right in the middle of its forehead.

The blonde shook her head free of her meandering thoughts to return to the here and now. They had arrived at the locker room and she began to change into her gym clothes. As she did, she refocused on the ongoing conversation with Audrey. After all, that was what started that long derailment...

"So... you liked Jack enough to take him on a date?"

Audrey was silent as she thought over the question. She deduced it was one of those things that was supposed to have a quick answer from Rachel and Cassie's exchanged glances, but she just didn't have a ready response.

"You... _do_ like him, right?" Cassie urged.

"I... don't know. I just met him, kinda. How'm I supposed to make a decision like that?"

"But you said you were going on a date with him!" Rachel exclaimed--quietly, though, because she didn't want to attract the attention of the other girls. Audrey hadn't done well in the last locker-room conversation, where the girls had practically circled like sharks with their interest in Rick.

Audrey pulled her sweatpants on and put on her signature, large boots, "I know, I know... I don't know what I was thinking; he caught me by surprise."

Rachel looked at her askance, "Caught you by surprise? So you just said 'yes' on reflex?"

"_No_--not really. I mean, well... maybe. I guess, sorta... yeah," Audrey said, trailing off with less conviction than she had at the start.

Rachel and Cassie stared at her perplexedly. She squirmed slightly under their gaze.

"_What_?"

Cassandra shook her head. Honestly, what were they going to do with the girl? As the other girls exited out into the gym, the trio noticed one of them lingered behind, shuffling at the doorway as if... hesitant to enter the gym. Almost as one, their eyes were drawn to Lynne Fortuna.

Rachel stood up, moved behind the girl. When the redhead tapped the girl on the shoulder, she jumped.

"Is something wrong, Lynne?"

"I... I dunno. Something just feels... off."

"Off?"

Lynne shook her head and forced herself out the doorway, "I can't explain it... never mind. It's just me, I guess."

Unfortunately, Lynne added to herself, her feelings were generally on the mark more often than not.

Audrey frowned a bit, but shrugged it off. Lynne's comments had her feeling as though the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. Her animal shifted uncomfortably and circled warily within the cages of her civilized shell, set her senses into high gear.

'_Great, just what I need... paranoia._'

* * *

They stared at the screens of the com-pads, fixing the image of the female face on it. She had her rich, dark brown hair pulled up into a ponytail in the picture. Vibrant green eyes stared at them from a beautiful, unmarred face. No smile brightened her face, which would have change her beauty from somber to breath-taking.

"You're sure this is her," Dahlven asked.

Toombs shrugged indifferently, but his tone was even, "Three hours lookin' through school IDs says this's our girl."

Eve perked a skeptical brow, "And he wouldn't have lied for five-hundred UDs the because?"

"Because... the whole time I had my gauge at his temple."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, that's grand."

Terry pulled up a timetable and read aloud, "Our girl's in Phys. Ed., boss. We gonna go play in the gym?"

"Nah," Toombs said, "Dahlven, you can take care of the squirt. Need her as bait. That bald, bright-eyed bastard's not there."

"'nother gut instinct?" Eve questioned.

Reis answered, though, "Nope."

They looked at him oddly. He just took a sip from his coffee--or maybe it was mud, he couldn't tell--and pointed toward the side door of the school. After swallowing the foul brew, he continued.

"...'cause... he just went in there..."

* * *

Riddick continued his steady gait as the door close behind him. The moment he heard the door latch, he bolted down the hallway, blowing past one or two students lingering in the halls for one reason or another. He turned a corner and darted into a classroom he knew would be empty. Having familiarized himself with the school Jack attended before he went to see her seemed like a good idea at the time, it turned out he had the right of it.

For some time now, there had been a shadow--several of them, really--following him. Not directly on his back, but catching up. He knew it had to be Toombs... Who the Hell knew the mangy merc could find a ride that fast? Idly, Riddick wondered just who all Toombs had to blow to get off that snowball. The ship must have had a tracker on it--his stupid mistake--and he had to have assembled a new team. Damn it all, he wished there was more time. But it looked like he was about to have it out with them.

Riddick had his own lines of underground intel, and those lines vibrated that someone was looking for him. This morning, he paid a guy for someone to disappear--someone that tipped Toombs off the previous night. He would have preferred to do the job in person, but it was best that he distance himself from the situation and focus on shipping out.

Still, he decided he would have to let Jack know, and that meant seeing her in the gym. He knew time wasn't on his side, but he had overestimated the amount he had left. By the time he was within a block of the school, his animal had been screeching inside him that something wasn't right... he could feel eyes on him and it raised the hairs on his neck and arms. Any thoughts of seeing Jack in the gym evaporated at that point. So that left him here, camped out in an empty classroom. He had suspended himself by some pipes that could have been there for any number of reasons, laid bare for easy access or perhaps just out of laziness. He knew they would come to him, sure enough as the shiv in his massive fist would drink deeply, today.

* * *

The game was, again, dodge ball and, since Rick was running a bit late today, she decided to play a round with the rest of the class. The girls on the opposing team seemed to take her on as some sort of challenge--'bean the most athletic girl in the class' or something. As she lunged out of the way of another ball, rolled to a crouch, and caught another that was flying at her skull, she frowned. It was unlike him to be so late. She scooped up another ball and hurled it at an oncoming ball, ricocheting both off in opposite directions. She then whipped the ball in her left hand at the nearest girl on the other team.

That was when she heard it: some kind of muted, dull pop or explosion. She went stock still--as did the rest of the class. Seconds later, two more rounds sounded in succession.

"What was that?" someone asked.

Both Zimmy's and Audrey's face darkened simultaneously.

The girl growled, "Big gauge. The merc-grade shit."

She would never forget the sound; the loud puffing, and the bluish discharge of the shells as they fired from the barrel. It had sounded time after time on that God-forsaken planet, but she worried most when she couldn't see it... like the time when Johns and Riddick fought.

"Girls, I want you to come with me," Zimmy said in a low command tone.

She began rounding up her students, intending to herd them all back into the locker room and lock up the doors. She would use the phone inside the small office in the locker room to call the main building--or the Guard--to see what was happening.

The coach glanced back and saw Audrey still standing in the middle of the gym, her eyes full of a frigid rage that was lacing lines of hate across her forehead as she scowled. In the girl's hands was one of the shivs--the ones with the spikes in the handle. Audrey's grip was tight, white knuckled, and her thumb flicked the guard to the side and back. The spike dropped from the pommel.

"Audrey! What are you doing?"

What _was_ she doing? Honestly, she didn't know... but the thought of someone--mercs, especially--coming near her or Riddick made her animal snarl in supreme offense.

"I know that sound. Shotgun. 's standard issue for those fuckers."

Once again, Alexis was treated to the girl that wasn't Audrey. The fierce, angry one that was more dangerous and less stable than she would prefer. The language also made her frown. She didn't like it when her girls used profanity. Audrey never used it, she noticed--not the Audrey she knew, anyway. Now wasn't the time for this to happen. Someone out there had guns. Speaking of which...

"How do you know that? ... Never mind, just get in here. It's not safe."

"No."

"Audrey, I'm not asking. I'm telling you to get inside."

"But he's out there. With _them_."

"Them? Them _who_?" Alexis demanded, feeling that Audrey may be more in the know than she suspected.

The other girls in the class shifted uncomfortably. Audrey had a knife and was arguing with Zimmy. The continued sounds from the school were also making them antsy. A larger explosion sounded. By now, some had guessed that something was going down--it was in the air, like a static charge tingling the skin right before being struck by lightning.

Audrey seemed to tense, taking a few steps back--away from what, no one could tell. She looked like a cornered animal about to lash out.

"Mercs."

Zimmy blinked, unsure if she heard right. But a glance at the girl told her she hadn't heard wrong, '_Mercenaries? Here? But why?_'

Suddenly, the answer came to her like a terrible epiphany; that piece of the puzzle that had been missing.

'_Rick..._'

The door to the gym violently burst open...

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Wow! A lot happened in this chapter. I actually had a bit of a problem, 'cause I'd no idea so many scenes went into a good sized chapter. I've actually titled most of the scenes there, so coming up with a single title for all of them was a bit hard. Heh.

I'm so glad to have reached this point, since the mercs crashing in on the school brings me to one of two founding ideas behind this entire fiction. The first founding idea was that Jack never left the planet, which meant she went to school. The confrontation between Jack and Mercs (coming up next chapter, of course) was the second. Truthfully, all the plot so far was me figuring out how to get to this point! That may sound like a backwards way of doing a story, but it turned out well.

As for all the other scenes... heh, well, if I dedicated comments to each one, I'd add another five pages to this! So I'll end the author's comments here and say hope you've enjoyed the story so far and thanks for reading--there's plenty more to come. As of the time of writing this, I have 10 pages of Chapter 9. So that'll probably be out soon. So... sorry, there are no more pre-written chapters. My plan was to post after I hit 100 pages, and Chapter 8 brings us to 118 and a half pages.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	9. 9: The End of the Beginning

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 9: The End of the Beginning_

'_So this is what it comes to..._' Jack thought as he hung nearly a foot and a half above the ground, pinned against the wall. A drop of blood welled at his neck where the sharp tip of a shiv pressed under his chin. He could see his life flash through his eyes. Well, the most recent part of it, at least...

* * *

_Riddick perched as the patient spider; hung by the pipes as if they were his web. He could practically feel it when they entered. His skin broke out into goose bumps that raised the hair all over his body, making his animal shudder in slight anticipation. Physically, however, he was statue-still; his mind had completely immersed itself in the hunt--he felt no strain from his muscles, no fatigue, no distractions._

_ The first sound was loud, something breaking. Screams were next. A door, then. Ah, nothin' like a good ol' door-to-door search. Riddick grinned; he had to give it to 'em. They _were_ persistent. Maybe not too bright announcing their exact location, but that just meant they were cocky bastards. Most of them were. The screams were getting louder, now. Shocked students afraid of those merc mugs... Closer. _Closer_._

_ His hand moved slowly, silently toward the shiv in his belt. Two doors down. He pulled the shiv and prepared himself for first blood._

* * *

_ Jack was hoping to talk to Rick about Audrey's schedule... and hoping that he would survive the encounter. This period was a study hall for him, and now seemed as good a time as any since he knew Audrey was in gym class. That meant Rick was sure to be in the gymnasium. Maybe he could catch Rick before he started with Audrey's lesson._

_ He exited out the side door of the school and began heading toward the gym. He froze in his tracks, however, when he saw something that made his heart lurch. It wasn't so much the fat, grungy man walking toward the gym as it was the large firearm in his hands. Jack could only watch on as the man kicked in the door. The loud bang jolted him out of his paralysis._

_ At once, he began to panic. He knew he had to do something, but the guy had a gun. And he was twice Jack's size. The boy dashed back into the school and decided to get one of the instructors to call the Guard. That was when he heard the banging noises and the screams. Again, he panicked and darted into the first convenient door he saw. It just happened to be the men's lavatory. Hey, he figured, it was as good a place as any to camp out... all he had to do was wait 'til it was safe. Sure, it wasn't exactly brave or daring, but he wasn't exactly a superhero, either. He couldn't fly, he didn't have super strength, and he could only stop a bullet once!_

* * *

_ The door practically blew open as Reis kicked it in; he took point as he rushed in and checked the door for attacks from behind. After him, Terry moved in and checked corners, followed by Logan and Toombs sweeping in. They all knew the motions to canvas the area to check for their perp. But all they found was an empty classroom--they even checked under the teacher's desk. One by one, they backed out. Reis was the last to head for the door, backing up slowly before turning to leave._

_ They hadn't checked beyond their regular line of vision, a rookie mistake when dealing with Riddick. And the quickest way to wind up with a shiv in your back. He could feel the anticipation build as he uncoiled from the ceiling like a serpent ready to strike._

_ The large man moved with a surprising stealth as he crept up behind the merc, soundlessly looming over him for half a moment, and then swiftly slipped an arm under Reis' neck. Locking the hand on his opposite forearm, he jerked quickly to the side, snapping the man's neck with a near inaudible pop. He dragged the corpse back into the room and quickly stashed it under the desk in such a manner that made him appear to be crouching underneath it._

_ Riddick leapt up and grabbed the pipes again, pulling himself up to his suspended spot just above the door once more..._

* * *

_ Toombs and his remaining crew, unaware of their casualty, came to a three-way intersection. Toombs paused at the edge and stood flush against the wall. Last thing he wanted to do was stick his head around a blind corner. Somewhere in here, Big Evil was lurking. He pointed to the right._

_ "Terry, Logan," he said, "take it on my mark."_

_ "Right," Logan said, readying her net gun._

_ "Reis, you're with me," he said, motioning to the left._

_ There was a moment of silence._

_ "Reis," he repeated, but lost the rest of his sentence when he glanced back and found no one behind him._

* * *

_ As he predicted, the mercs had gone on for almost a minute before they realized that he wasn't there. They immediately backtracked, already suspecting the worst and came back to the room he occupied. This time, the woman was the first through the door, swinging the net gun in a wide arc. Immediately she zeroed in on the shadow of Reis' boots under the instructor's desk. She silently motioned at it and Terry and Toombs aimed their gauges at it. Toombs remained by the door to cover the only exit. Terry moved forward while Logan kept her sights on the desk. Riddick smirked as they communicated through silent signals they thought he couldn't see._

_ Terry readied himself and kicked the instructor's desk over. The desk toppled and Reis' body crumpled to the floor without its support. They all jerked back and Riddick exploded into action. He dropped from the ceiling and kicked Toombs out of the room. Eve whipped around and fired her net projectile toward Riddick, but he was already in motion. He leapt behind a row of student desks and moved in a low charge at Terry._

_ Eve's net went through the door and opened. The spikes dug into the tiles on the ground and the plaster in the wall, pinning Toombs in his collapsed position across the hallway. He cursed profusely as he struggled to reach the knife on his belt. Eve swore and turned to aim it at Riddick again. She pumped the net gun and held it up, but found that Terry was in her sights. No, she wasn't about to make that mistake again. She shouldered her net gun and pulled her pistol from his thigh holster._

_ The pistol was strong enough to down him, but it wasn't intended to do any lasting damage--which made it rather ideal for their setting. After all, there were kids here. Vaguely, she was glad that Riddick was in an empty classroom. She couldn't exactly trust the others to care about civilian casualties... especially Toombs and Dahlven. Eve never could subscribe wholesale to "the creed is greed" motto of the mercenary lifestyle._

_ Suddenly, the high-caliber sound of a pulse rifle sounded, impacting a wall just behind a tan and black blur. Several more followed, punching head-sized holes into the hallway._

_ '_Chen, you stupid son of a bitch, what're you doing? There're kids here!_' she mentally screamed, firing her pistol at the blur._

_ Suddenly, Terry found himself lifted off the ground and slammed into the ceiling, then dropped amongst a rain of plaster. Riddick stood over him like a giant for a moment, and then stepped on a desk and vaulted over another shot from Eve. He landed with his forearm across her collarbone. He continued running, bull-dozing her across the room and slamming her into the wall next to the door. With his shiv raised, he prepared to open her neck._

_ Then he heard the loud clack of a weapon being cocked._

_ He glanced behind him and saw a winded Terry kneeling down, resting the barrel of a grenade launcher on his shoulder and part of a desk. Riddick turned back with what could almost be considered a startled expression toward Eve--her eyes were wide, as well, and at once, they shared a common thought._

_ '_Shit!_'_

_ Riddick lunged for the door, only to feel a body slam into him from behind and the sound of rubble caving in all around him. He skidded across the hallway on his chest and his shoulder banged against a wall next to a net that lay sliced open. Toombs was nowhere in sight..._

_ The explosion flung Terry clear against the wall. Several desks blew back and struck Terry with various broken parts, including a high-velocity counter that knocked him unconscious. As the desks skidded away from the origin of the detonation, Chen found himself buried under a plethora of school furniture... battered, but alive._

_ Eve headed for the door just behind Riddick, but the explosion caught her and blasted her body into his large figure. The debris that narrowly missed him fell on her, painfully pinning her legs underneath hundreds of pounds of concrete and metal. She cried out--something felt broken... not badly, she hoped. After the explosion, she winced as dust settled into her cuts. There was silence--almost unnatural in the sudden chaos. Finally, the steady clump of boots came and she saw two huge boots come to stand before her. She looked up, staring into her own reflection in twin black lenses._

_ "You going to kill me?"_

_ He crouched down on his haunches before her and picked up the net gun that lay beside her. Eve watched as Riddick stood up, discharged the remaining five shots into the wall, and then dropped it unceremoniously to the ground. He then turned and made his way to the intersection._

* * *

_ Jack had no idea what was happening, there were gunshots and a large explosion, the ground rocked and the bathroom shook. What the fuck was happening out there? If this was happening here, what was happening in the gym? In the quiet after the cacophony, he actually had time to think about it. The question sent about him an urgency to do something--to let someone know. After all, who knew what was happening in the gym? What if no one knew about the guy going into the gym but him?_

_ '_Can't just leave Audrey and others to whatever that big guy had in store... I have to do something--tell someone. It sounds like there's a break in the action._'_

_ With that, he mustered up as much courage as he could and bolted out the door. If he just ran really fast and found someone--one of the school guards, a teacher, _someone_--then he could tell them and get help... It all seemed like a good idea as he rounded the corner. The next three seconds found him suspended a foot and a half above the ground with a sharp point pressed under his chin, making him tilt his head back until it hit the wall._

* * *

"Shit!"

A growl that sounded as though it belonged to some huge, hairy animal resonated from his captor's throat. The prick of the knife against the sensitive flesh under his chin made him wince. He kept his eyes closed, wanting distance himself from what were likely to be his last, grisly moments in this world.

'_So this is what it comes to..._' he thought, '_Idiot... shoulda stayed in the bathroom..._'

Eve looked up to see Riddick holding some kid by the neck, poised to shove his knife into the boy's brain, '_Oh, my God... no..._'

Suddenly, Riddick realized he wasn't holding Toomb's neck and dropped the kid.

"The fuck are you doin' here?"

Jack crumpled to the floor and coughed when he first tried to breathe, but managed to get some air into his lungs. After his panic somewhat abated, everything came rushing out of him, "I figured I should find you, 'cause I wanted to talk to you about her, but I saw him and he went in there and-"

A large palm covered his mouth and Riddick leaned down, towering over him. The hand holding the shiv freed its index finger to hold it up to Riddick's lips. Those black goggles staring blankly into Jack's soul.

"Shut up. Inhale. Hold that breath."

For a moment, the dust simply settled around them and Riddick took his hand away from the frantic teen.

"Exhale. Now what're you doin' here."

"Audrey," he blurted, as it was the first thing that came to mind. Immediately, he could see all of Rick's attention had uncomfortably shifted onto him, "I-I saw a man, some big guy... he was heading toward the gym. He had a gun."

Riddick exploded, "_Fuck_!"

Jack started at the yell, but by the time he recovered, Riddick was running full tilt down the hallway Jack had come from. Jack looked around at the rubble and saw a woman pinned under the debris that must have been caused by that explosion he'd heard a few minutes prior. He wasn't sure who she was, but--against his better judgment and first impulse to follow Riddick--he felt he should help her. After all, more debris could fall on her and kill her; he couldn't just leave her there...

* * *

With a heavy kick to the double doors of the gym, Dahlven entered while menacingly brandishing his shotgun at the crowd of girls. Audrey slipped the shiv up her sweatshirt's sleeve, taking one more step back. She could hear the sound of blood rushing in her ears, feel her nails dig into her palms as her animal sank its claws into her mind, flexing its muscles and stretching--preparing for the hunt. She wanted to lunge at him, but at the same time, she direly wanted to run to Riddick; neither seemed wise, currently. In the interim of her indecision, Dahlven noticed her withdrawal and aimed the gauge at her; she was the one he wanted.

"Heya, girlie. Make this easy an' get yer ass over here."

Audrey raised a brow, "What, I'm bait?"

"Sharp one, ain't ya?" he asked and tossed a pair of cuffs at her feet.

Zimmy gaped and tried to remain calm even as Dahlven tried to take her most enigmatic student hostage. She could hear the hysterics of more than one of her other students crowded in a corner, caught and frozen in fear several yards from the locker room door. Her eyes trailed over to see Audrey with a careful blank look that she'd learned meant nothing good--it was the same one that always preceded her doing something spectacularly shocking and/or frustrating. It was a measuring gaze, her eyes slowly trailing him from the top of his greasy-haired head to the bottom of his dirty boots. Then the look of disgust worked over her features and it was clear that Audrey absolutely despised this man--and not because of the current circumstance, Alexis suspected. No, she was willing to wager that the girl would be disgusted just hearing about him. The statement Audrey had made earlier suddenly came back to Zimmy.

'_Merc... He's a mercenary. And they must want to use her to get to Rick!_'

Audrey glanced down at the cuffs, looked back up at him with that damnable, raised brow, and crossed her arms.

'_Oh, no,_' thought Zimmy, '_this is no time to be feisty, Audrey... Don't open your mouth, _don't_ open your mouth..._'

Unfortunately, Audrey was oblivious to Zimmy's mental pleads.

"I got a better idea. Why don't you and your pals pick up that lard-ass of yours and ship yourselves to a system in the asshole of the universe. Then you can find a nice asteroid belt, jettison yourselves out the air-lock, and play a game of hide-and-go-fuck-yourselves..."

The swine of a man's face turned beet-red and he pumped the shotgun, only Toomb's orders to take the girl prisoner keeping him from blowing her pretty, little face off.

"You were saying?" he threatened.

"All that fat cloggin' your ears? I said... Why don't you... and your pals-"

"Audrey!" Alexis hissed.

She shook her head, "Don't worry, Zimmy... He needs me alive--I'm bait, remember?"

Dahlven grinned, "'s right, but I don't need these little bitches."

The gun swung from her to point into the bunch of girls now huddled in the corner. Multiple screams and whimpers sounded as they all tried to wedge themselves deeper into the corner. Audrey's face went ice cold. If looks could have killed, Dahlven would have dissolved slowly and agonizingly into a puddle of acidic putrefaction. There was a moment of silence before she bent down and angrily snatched up the cuffs.

"Good girl," he said with an infuriating grin.

"Shit-eating mecs... all the same..." she muttered as she fastened them and moved in front of the merc, "Think you're hot shit. Without that gauge you're just a spineless bastard..."

A meaty fist swung out and, though she could have dodged it, she took it--if only because he had the gun on the other girls. She wouldn't jeopardize them for her own satisfaction. It cracked her upside the face and she toppled over to the side. She levered herself back to her feet, her lip split where it had not quite healed up from her most recent spar with Riddick. She belligerently drilled her gaze into him with an auger of hate.

"And you hit like a girl."

Zimmy mentally shook her head. How could Audrey smart off at a time like this? The situation was so precarious... all he had to do was pull the trigger. But, she supposed, that was what was preventing Audrey from attacking the man. After seeing the girl fighting in the pit, Alexis suspected that she very well could take the man down.

"So how's this work, anyway? You _do_ realize that using me as bait isn't just stupid, it's suicidal..."

"Shut the fuck up," he said, jerking her around and fisting his hand at the base of her ponytail.

"I know what you gotta be thinkin'. The bitch is crazy. With her as a meat shield, he'd have to be _crazy_ to go after me. But crazy's just the tip of the iceberg. He'll go totally psychotic on you, y'know." She winced as he tugged on her hair, tears stinging her eyes at the sudden sharp yank. Audrey kept going, "Sure, you can threaten to kill me... but in the time it takes you to pull the trigger, he'll have a shiv in your sweet spot. You know that one... just to the left of the spine, fourth lumbar down... the abdominal aorta. What a _gusher_..."

Dahlven swung her body back and forth like a puppet, using her ponytail as the strings, "I said shut your trap, ya fuckin' bitch, or I'll blow it off!"

Audrey writhed a bit, gritting her teeth and reaching up to her hair with her cuffed hands to ease the tension. She couldn't, but refused to just stand there and take it.

"Nah... you can't kill me yet. That's not how it works. If you kill me, there's nothin' holding him back, you see? He finds me dead and he won't go for your sweet spot, he'll _gut you alive_. I can see it. He'll take his shiv and slice you right across the umbilical region... he'll reach in and pull out your insides like he was unwinding a ball of yarn... and strangle you with your own intestines!"

There was no tug on her hair, this time. Audrey practically cackled--as darkly and insanely as she could manage. Truthfully, she was more than a bit scared. But the more nervous she made him, the more chances she had that he would make a mistake... Hopefully, he was the type not to go ballistic. No, this one was too cowardly to be like Johns. She paused to listen. All seemed to be silent. The gunfire in the school had ceased. She somehow managed to grin.

"Sounds like the party's over. He never did like to waste time. Better pray to that cruel and twisted, almighty Fucker up on high the next person through that door's one o' yours..."

Dahlven was starting to sweat. The girl was psycho--no wonder she hooked up with Riddick. Her words were eating at his composure, making his mind crawl, his eyes dart at every shadow. The minutes passed with torturous lethargy and he couldn't help but roll around the possibility that his crew had been ghosted--there'd been no word since he came in. He had the girl, why hadn't anyone signaled him?

'_Jesus Christ, who _are_ those two?_' Alexis thought as she listened to Audrey's graphic description.

She had always suspected that Mr. Phoebus was a dangerous person, but had assumed he was just ex-military or something. The recent feeling over the past few days that he was something far darker was intensifying by the second. At once, she wondered who she should really be fearing: the mercenaries... or Audrey and Rick...

* * *

The door slowly swung open slowly, its already abused hinges giving a protesting groan. Everyone's eyes strayed to it, both anxious and eager to see who would come through the door next. There was a pregnant silence of expectation... and finally, a dark figure moved into the doorway, filling it with its considerable mass. The primal anger rolling off him was almost tangible as he stalked forward, stopping just before the edge of the noonday sun beaming straight down through the skylight.

"You must be one desperate piece of shit to sign with Toombs... or you're just a fuckin' idiot. You seem skittish, big boy... too skittish. Probably shouldn't tell ya what happened to Toomb's _last_ crew."

"Fuck you!" Dahlven said, ignoring the sweat dripping from his temples, "You know the drill... on the ground and spread 'em."

Riddick walked slowly around the perimeter of the square of light in the gym like a shark circling a diver in a cage... a silver-eyed demon from the depths that could smell blood in the water. The shiv gripped tightly in his hand gleamed, patient yet hungy.

"_Like a ball of yarn_..." Audrey hissed at Dahlven.

He tugged at Audrey's hair with one hand and aimed the gun at Riddick, slowly turning to keep Audrey between him and the convict, "I ain't fuckin' around, get down, now!"

Riddick could hear the panic in his tone and had to wonder what had worked his nerves up so badly. Jack probably had something to do with that, judging by her words. He'd have to ask her about that ball of yarn comment later.

Jack slipped her shiv out from her sleeve and began to work at the tiny lock hole in the cheap cuffs with the pommel spike. While his attention was focused on Riddick, she slowly worked at picking the chains... She had never done it before, but from what she could feel, it was a pretty simple mechanism; must have been some cheap-ass restraints. The problem was doing it quietly so the merc swine didn't hear her. It took a few moments, but eventually it clicked loose and she slid one hand out of its loop, leaving the other attached because she didn't want to attract attention to herself.

"What you gonna do, merc? Gonna take me in yourself? Think your pilot was blown to shit a few minutes ago--how you plannin' to get off planet? Ain't no slams 'round here that'd hold me. And if you kill me, you gotta take fifty percent cut. By the way... I _gotta_ ask, what's the payday?"

Dahlven grinned his greed suddenly restoring his confidence, "Over a mil. You're the sixth on the most wanted."

Wordlessly, Alexis' jaw dropped.

'_He's got a million-UD bounty on his head. Damnit, who the fuck _is_ he?_' she mentally screamed.

A positively malicious grin slashed across Riddick's lips and those goggles seemed to momentarily flash, "Sixth? I wanna be number _one_."

Dahlven glared. He was about to respond when a sharp pain jabbed into ribs, loosening his grip on the gun as he grunted. Jack dug her elbow into his ribcage once again as hard as she could; the merc dropped his gun and his hold on her hair loosened. Once her hair was free of his meaty fist, Jack turned halfway to plant her foot behind him and rammed her shoulder into his sizeable bulk. Even for a large man, he wasn't expecting her and was off-balance and still recovering from the elbows. He fell to the ground with quite a loud thump. She followed him and landed with her elbow sinking into him, just below the xiphoid process. Her shiv in hand, she placed one hand on either side of the winded merc's head. One leg kicked up and off the ground, followed by the other...

Zimmy's eyes widened as she watched it occur almost in slow motion. She knew what Jack was doing. She was too far to do anything about it, though.

'_No..._' she thought and forced herself out of her stupor, "Audrey... No."

Jack's shiv was at Dahlven's throat and he came out of his painful daze to feel the cool metal press against his throat. He froze.

"_Jack_! Stop!" Riddick's voice boomed out, freezing Jack's hand.

Her head jerked up, "I can do it! I can ghost him; he's just a fuckin' merc!"

Suddenly, everything was balanced on a razor edge--the one in Jack's hand. Her face was one of anger, determination, focus, and deadly seriousness. He knew he'd have to choose his words carefully to salvage the situation. He'd take care of the merc and ship out; time had run out.

He rose his hands placatingly, "I know you can, Jack. But if you ghost him, you'll have mercs on your back like me. You got a chance, here. Just knock 'im out and I'll deal with it."

She frowned at him, as if what he was saying didn't make any sense.

"...Then what?"

"Then I ship out."

Suddenly, Jack felt a cold bolt shoot down her spine and her mouth dropped open. Her knife pressed harder against the man's throat, pressing into the fat of the man's neck. Dahlven tried not to move lest she cut into him.

"Y-... you mean we... right? You an' me'll ship out..."

"Jack..."

"You can't leave me here again!"

"I have mercs on my neck! I'll always have mercs on my neck!" he bellowed, "I spent five years on a frozen heap just to keep 'em away from you."

"And I spent five years on this sun-blasted heap waiting for you to come back! I dreamed about it every fucking night for five years... Then you come back and you get my hopes up for this? You wanna fucking gut me while you're at it?"

Zimmy watched them with an almost terrified fascination. The girl's eyes were misty; her expression was one of barely restrained rage and hurt. Riddick was more animated than she had ever seen him, for once loosing that impossible cool he seemed to have cultivated.

"I don't have time for this, Jack. Just-"

"Damnit, Riddick, _don't you leave me_!"

Her scream was so loud it echoed throughout the gym; made Zimmy jump and Riddick pause in his half-turn. He turned his head back to her and saw her hand trembling, pushing even deeper into the merc's neck. A small line of blood seeped up and around the edges of the blade. She was half a blink away from hysterics with potentially lethal results.

"If you leave, I'll ghost him! I swear to shit I will!"

Alexis glanced back and forth between them, the name rebounding around in her head and making her head swim as the last piece of the puzzle settled in. The silence between convict and teen was so tense it could reach out and strangle someone.

'Riddick_. Richard B. Riddick. Oh, my God... How could I not recognize him? He's the most notorious killer in today's known systems... Shit, what do I do? What _can_ I do? The man's the Grim Reaper incarnate!_'

Riddick ran his free hand over his smooth scalp in frustration, "Fuck, Jack, don't do this!"

"Just take me with you," she practically begged, in spite of her position of power over the large man below her. The tears lingered in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Her entire body was tense as she hung on Riddick's decision.

'_And somehow, Big Evil's got himself attached to this girl. Audrey... or Kyra... or Jack, or whatever the Hell her name is._'

Alexis shook her head. After seeing so much of him, Rick--Richard--still seemed dangerous... but he wasn't hardly the psychotic mass murderer he was portrayed to be. Ruthless and cold; unreachable by any emotion except rage. They said he was a natural born killer, with no restraints or compunctions about killing men, women, or children.

No, he was meticulous and controlled at most times, always prepared and highly intelligent. She'd shared conversations with him, damnit. He had a sense of humor--even if it was often odd or dark. If it weren't for the knowledge she had of him as Rick Phoebus, she would have sworn that Riddick didn't _have_ any soft spots. But now he looked fit to start pacing; all because he couldn't just up and leave one teenager.

"Riddick..." Jack said quietly, more a question than a call. Her breathing was short and it was clear that the silence was working her nerves to a breaking point.

Riddick took a deep breath and slowly let it out in a sigh, closing his eyes and trying to assemble some semblance of calm. This was beyond fucked up; she had him cornered at the junction of the moral walls of responsibility and conscience--two things that he had not felt for several years... not since a docking pilot was snatched away from him. She had died. For him. Once again, he felt the stirrings of his Humanity trying to spark... to create some ember in his cold, animal nature.

"If you're with me, you do as I say."

"I'm with you," she replied anticipatorily.

"Then for fuck's sake knock the merc out, already. _I'll_ ghost him."

"But I can-"

"I know," he cut her off, "Do as I say, remember?"

Her trembling had steadied out, though she was still rather geared-up. She needed to relieve herself of her tension. She pulled away the shiv and delivered a vicious straight punch that broke Dahlven's nose. His eyes filled with tears and his nose profusely bled. She stood up and quickly began kicking him in the stomach. When he covered his gut, she kicked at his chest or arms. She fumed with a wordless cry, then set out with a tirade and punctuated each malediction with a vicious kick.

"Stupid, goddamned, bitch-ass, cock-sucking, motherfucking, bastardly shithead! You mercs always fuck things up! Why did you come here? Why did you have to _ruin_ everything? Why can't you just leave us alone? I hate you! I hate you! I fucking _hate you_!"

Riddick grabbed the back of her sweatshirt and hauled her back, "Jack!"

"_What_?" she growled angrily.

Not pleased with her tone, his voice boomed, "Remember who you're talking to!"

She flinched and took some heaving breaths.

"You got a pack stashed like I told you?"

Jack nodded. She turned for the door, but paused. Quickly she spun around and slammed her boot into Dahlven's crotch. He yelled and curled up into a dazed, debilitated ball of lard.

"_Jack_. Go get your pack."

He raised his shiv, but she grabbed his wrist--lightly, but firmly. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Jack..." he said with deliberate slowness, his tone warning.

"Could... could you take him outside? I think it would be bad for the others to see you ghost him..."

He just sat there looking at her for a moment as if she had grown a tail out of her forehead. She left before he could accept or reject her request. Riddick shook his head and grabbed the barely coherent Dahlven's leg. The convict grunted as he tugged the considerable bulk of the man along the concrete and toward the door Jack had exited ahead of him.

"Losing my fucking mind..." Riddick muttered as he hauled the other man out the door and out of sight.

* * *

Rachel sat, mechanically and stiffly, on the bench in the locker room. Mrs. Zimmerman--the poor woman--was swarmed by mostly hysterical girls that kept asking frantic or repetitive questions. Audrey wasn't here, though. She left. Rachel knew something important had happened--was happening this very moment. Whatever that was, it had everything to do with her friend... Quietly, she took hold of her book bag and, clutching it to her chest, padded over to the door. She slipped out without a sound.

Rachel moved across the gym in a state of shock, only vaguely aware of what she was doing and where she was going. Rick (or Riddick, if she wanted to be honest with herself) told Audrey to get her things. Riddick said he was leaving. Did that mean the ship? She had a fair idea where the ship was; she'd seen Audrey and Rick walking away from the docking bay the night Audrey fought in the pit.

The first thing her nearly overwhelmed mind took in was the dark red stain just outside the door to the gym. Her eyes traced the small smattering of drops and crimson trail along the dusty ground until they hit a boot. Rachel's mind practically begged her eyes not to continue, that it couldn't take anymore, but it was as if she wasn't in control of her body. She was treated to the pale face of Dahlven, the merc who had threatened everyone in the gym just minutes before. There was a wide arc drawn from ear to ear, along the neck. It opened a wide gape that spilled an almost unbelievable amount of blood over his once-beige-and-blue clothes. Now, they were stained deep scarlet and black, and a puddle had formed beneath him. His eyes stared back at her blankly. Dahlven laid in a boneless position as only a corpse could, where the limbs simply laid haphazardly despite the appearance of discomfiture; but there was no sign of discomfort--just a blankness of unfeeling death.

Rachel edged around it in a wide arc, keeping at least a meter between herself and the large puddle. Once she was on the other side, she tore her eyes from the body and bolted down the streets. For a while, she simply ran away from the scene, trying to distance her body and mind from it. Without much conscious effort, her feet guided her toward the docking bays. She was nearly halfway there when, by degrees, her brain began working again. Like the system check of a jumper, her mental facilities flicked on one by one. Soon enough, she doubted her course, but she was already far enough on her way that she was reluctant to stop. Finally, Rachel realized that, while she knew 'Rick Phoebus' and knew the general direction of the ports... she'd no idea _which_ hangar she was to enter.

She bumped into the answer, quite literally, and it grunted. Stumbling backward, Rachel looked up into the face of one of the Maintenance crew. He looked at her somewhat surprised, and she instantly took advantage of the situation.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. My friend is taking piloting lessons from Rick Phoebus, but her guardian wanted me to get them--something about a family emergency... Do you know where I can find him?"

"Phoebus? Big, bald-guy?"

Rachel nodded.

The man pulled off a small box resting on his shoulder and spoke into it, "Hey, Hassad, you got the H.N. on a Rick Phoebus in Bay 3?"

"A moment," came the voice through the speaker of the radio.

Rachel shifted slightly uncomfortably, slightly in a hurry, but trying not to betray her nervousness at the same time.

"Phoebus. _The Gift of Nyx_. Bay 3, Hanger Number 8."

"You got that?" he asked her.

"Bay 3, Hanger 8," Rachel repeated with a nod, "thank you."

He noised and waved her off. The maintenance worker would not think anything about this strange until he returned home and saw the report about Richard B. Riddick being on Helion Prime and holding a violent shootout in a distinguished, private school with law enforcement officials resulting in two casualties and at least two injuries.

She made her way toward the third bay, walking with more speed than normal, but not enough to draw attention. She eventually found the eighth hanger and peered inside. Audrey was bustling about, just inside the door, and then she was gone. Within the next few minutes, she saw the girl in the cockpit, flipping switches and doing a pre-flight check. Rachel looked around and rounded the corner into the hangar. As quietly as she could, she approached the ship and crept up the gangway.

She didn't think about why, exactly, she was skulking about Rick's ship, but she was halfway down a hallway when she heard the heavy steps of someone--probably Rick--heading up the gangway. He sounded like he was in a hurry, too. Panicking, she opened the hatch to the lower deck, moved down the ladder, and closed the door back. There were various emergency lights on, but she didn't turn on the overhead lights to see any better. It appeared that she was in the cargo area; Rick had six or so large crates holding whatever people like Rick hauled around. She hid behind one of the crates and pulled her com-pad out of her bag. Quickly, she began typing a message... when she finished she sent it out. She hoped Cassie would understand--and hoped that the blonde could get her mother to not go ballistic.

* * *

Jack heard him approach and slid from the pilot seat to the co-pilot seat. She continued to flip switches.

"Pre-flight's 80 percent, cells are full, and hull integrity's been checked."

Riddick nodded, "I'm gonna set us up for the Nemaeus System; it's a quick jump and we can decide where to go from there. ... What's wrong?"

Jack shook her head lightly, "Nothing."

He didn't buy it, and he knew she didn't, either. She had practically frozen at the keys the second he mentioned Nemaeus. She busied herself with finishing the pre-flight check and Riddick decided to let it go--for now. Eventually, he'd get an answer out of her before they arrived in Nemean space...

"Strap in," he said as he harnessed himself and flipped a switch, "This is _The Gift of Nyx_ to Control, requesting launch."

"Stand by, _Gift of Nyx_," the control tower responded and was silent for several moments, "Track 4 is open in the next five minutes, but we're busy today. If you're ready to fire, roll up to queue now and you can make it. Otherwise, it'll be about half an hour wait for the tracks to clear."

"Good to go now, I can make it. Heading for Track 4, Control."

He maneuvered the ship easily out of the hangar and across the docking bay to the fourth track. He lined himself behind the ship--some personal jumper. _The Gift of Nyx_ was larger than Chillingsworth's jumper several times over, but then again, he needed the cargo space for his trading. Officially, it was a luxury ship built at a rather comfy, personal size. Riddick more or less gutted it of all the needless functions (the jacuzzi, the living room with faux fire place, the extra-large dining hall with a table to seat twelve) and turned them into a space worthy of the convict. It now contained a workout room, a medical bay, a sauna, and an expanded cargo bay.

He had to admit, though, that he left the entertainment room as it was. The full-sized couch, a coffee table, and a large, wall-mounted com-screen were useful; not to mention the room was comfortable all around. The galley was the same; its top-of-the-line food-prep unit and cryo-storage locker were amenities he really could not afford to install on a regular cargo ship. Buying a luxury ship, converting it into a merchant vessel, and then selling the unnecessary parts bought him back some of the price he spent on the model.

Riddick waited rather impatiently, and the minutes passed by with his agitation growing. Jack remained wisely silent. Soon enough, Control cleared them for take off and he threw the throttle forward. Riddick took them into orbit fairly quickly, the pressure weighed down on them while they broke through the atmosphere. About halfway off-planet, something strange occurred. They heard an unusual noise...

Thump-Squeak, it went from somewhere in the lower deck.

Jack and Riddick looked to each other simultaneously. Jack had a startled look on her face while Riddick merely frowned. Neither could focus on it immediately, but they both knew it boded ill in one fashion or another.

"...What the Hell was that?"

"I dunno," Jack said, "...Maybe we should check it out."

"Nothin' we can do about it 'til we leave the atmosphere and clear all these G's."

After three or four minutes, they had left the influence of Helion Prime. Riddick got up from the seat and told Jack to plot for the edge of the system and engage the autopilot while he investigated the strange noise during their lift-off.

* * *

Rachel sat quietly as she listened to the boots cross over her and beyond her position. Still, she remained silent and hidden, not daring to move for several minutes lest they hear her. Rachel hadn't exactly thought through what her goal for sneaking aboard was, but she had to talk to Audrey. Nothing else in her actions had been part of a very well thought out plan...

Suddenly, the cargo bay began rumbling and she looked around in surprise. Before she could figure out what was happening or what to do, a sudden press of gravity threw her backward and against the strapped-down crates. Rachel fell against it and the air rushed out of her in a loud, high-pitched noise of surprise. She felt the pressure on her chest and limbs grow and remain until it was quite difficult to do anything but sit there and breathe.

Eventually, however, the gravity lessened and she could once again move. She winced and leaned forward. She rescued her bag from the dark corner it had flown into and thought about her next move. Rachel didn't have much time to contemplate it, however, as the emergency lights went out, leaving her in a complete, pitch black.

An opening latch sounded and she could only guess it was the hatch to the upper deck. Moments later, the latch closed. Still in an inky darkness, she slid quietly into the corner and tried to take up as little space as possible. Maybe if she kept quiet, no one would hear her. Unfortunately, it wasn't sound that was an issue.

She jumped at a sudden bellow from a few yards away.

"_Jack_!"

A scamper of lighter footsteps scrambled along the ceiling. The faint, red, emergency lights turned on. In the low ambience, she saw the large form of Riddick standing before her, goggles on his forehead and argent eyes gleaming. Rachel gasped at his oppressive, stifling presence, which seemed to take up the entire room. The hatch opened again, this time, a square of white light poured in from above, and Jack slid down the ladder.

"Lights, fifteen percent," she said ever conscientious of his sensitive eyes. "What is it? What did you..." she trialed off, trying to fathom the presence of the person in front of her, "_Rachel_?"

Rachel, struck dumb for some reason--be it the surprise of Rick or simply being on the spot so suddenly--could not find words to explain herself.

"What's she doing here?" Riddick demanded.

For all of fifteen seconds, Jack forgot the girl was even there. Her attention immediately swung from the redhead to the convict. Her arms crossed as she looked at him petulantly.

"Why are you asking _me_? I didn't pack her!"

Rachel watched them go back and forth, arguing over her as though she wasn't there. They went over what they were going to do--about what she knew, about her presence and what they could or could not do about it, about security issues, and about what to do with her in the meantime until they found a working solution. She felt like a spectator in her own life, awaiting some judges' panel to decide her fate. Eventually, they had the decency to acknowledge her again.

"Too risky, Jack."

"What risk? It's _Rachel_... I mean," she said, glancing at Rachel, "er... no offence, but you're not exactly threatening."

"Jack, the mouse squeaks one word and we'll have every merc in a five-system radius on our asses within the hour. It's better if she just turns up somewhere."

The statement made Rachel's blood run cold. What did he mean by that? Instantly, Jack imposed herself between her and the large convict. The brunette glared up at him. Rachel couldn't see, but she could feel the sudden tension in the corner of the cargo bay.

"You are _not_ suggesting we just _X_ her out and _dump_ her body off in the first convenient location."

Riddick's expression was stone; his shined eyes like chiseled ice regarded them with an inhuman detachment. For a long moment, Rachel felt like he was going to strike them dead on the spot. It was almost irrational, but she had to remember that she wasn't among Audrey Knight and Rick Phoebus, anymore; she was now in the company of Jack B. Badd and Richard B. Riddick.

"Alright..." Riddick said in a tone that sounded less than conceding. On the heels of his acceptance, he made his stipulation, "But she's your responsibility, then. If the time comes when something has to be done--_you'll_ be the one to ghost her."

Rachel's eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. She could see Jack's jaw working and, for a moment, thought she could hear the other girl actually growling. Finally, Jack straightened and huffed.

"Fine," she spat and moved around Riddick and headed for the hatch.

About the time Jack was halfway up the ladder, something began beeping. It was a small chiming--sweet, not irritating--that, nevertheless, rung with some sense of urgency.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Finally, we're off-planet! Who knew it'd take so long to get there? I can't say I mind, though. The gym scene is what started it all; this is more or less the actualization of where I wanted to _start_ this fiction. Once I began writing, however, I realized there was much more to do before I could reach this point. The more I wrote, the more I realized that the gym scene wasn't likely going to happen very soon; that there were a lot of avenues I wanted to explore, events to occur, more characters I wanted to introduce and define before I even got to the mercs in the school! All in all, I've had great fun writing this and now that I'm here, I feel like the I'm at the beginning of the story all over again. Everything's new and exciting for me, now--we've got new places to explore, people to meet, events to happen. This might sound stupid, but for me, this is quite a milestone.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	10. 10: Unholy Triad: A Secret Revealed

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 10: Unholy Triad: A Secret Revealed_

Rachel froze, eyes turning down to her bag. Shaking herself out of it, she looked down into her backpack, hastily pulled out her com-pad, and stared at it for all over three seconds. She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, giving her some amount of meager courage to press herself into the lives of the convict and girl.

"I need to use a com," without taking her eyes off the screen, her fear of her situation immediately swept away by the insistent chime. She tapped a few on-screen buttons to confirm her suspicions.

Riddick grabbed the pad away from her. If the girl had some kind of locator beacon or tracer, then they might have to take drastic measures, now... When he looked at the screen of the com-pad, he saw a stream of senseless number and letters, strings of code that slipped by at dizzying rates; none of it made any sense. Jack came up behind him and peered at the com.

"It's a bunch of gibberish," she said.

Riddick frowned at the series of numbers. What were they to? And what was the mouse doing with them?

"Not gibberish-"

Rachel plucked the com out of his fingers. Absently, she replied with a mild snap, "Only if you don't have a clue what you're looking at..."

The tablet-sized com-pads became cluttered with windows far too quickly, and that made it difficult to work fluently and efficiently. And now, she really, _really_ needed to use that com. She was no longer paying attention to the frowning Riddick looming above her. The fact that she appeared to be zoned out to everything but her little computer only seemed to sour Riddick's progressively annoyed mood.

"I still need to use a com."

"There's one in the lounge. I'm going with you, though. Don't even think about trying to pull anything," he threatened.

Distractedly, she agreed, "Mm."

He led her up the ladder to the top deck and the entertainment room. She followed him quietly, and moved for the big screen as soon as she saw it. Setting down the com-pad in the link-up tray, she pulled a small headset out of her backpack and put it on.

"Upload programs HoH-M and HoH-R to main data banks. Synchronize with program Dual-HoH."

The data rolled up and the percentage bar flew across the screen as the two programs appeared. The screen's background changed to a fiery background with a black, metal gate and a three-headed dog guarding it. Her fingers practically flew over the keys as Jack and Riddick watched somewhat surprised. Well, Riddick was more interested and suspicious than surprised.

"What are you doing?" Jack asked.

Rachel continued typing, not bothering to pause while she responded, "Hopefully fixing a major problem."

She opened the speech-operated dialogue box and began instructing the programs verbally while she navigated the networks with astounding efficiency.

"Alright, boys... what've you found?"

#One of the packages reached their final destination. It has no more reroutes and has remained stationary for an hour,# Minos replied.

Rhadamanthus continued, #We should probably wait for another package to arrive and see if remains stationary, as well.#

Rachel nodded, even though she was aware that the com could not read her non-verbal cues, "But I want a lock on that account. Deposit only, no withdrawal. If it is the final destination, I don't want the idiot taking any out to spend."

#Done,# Rhadamanthus affirmed.

"What account is this?"

#Its origin is the Ursa Luna System, an _ULTrust_ bank on Ursa Luna 2. We will have the owner and records of the account within the hour, Aeacus.#

#I detect a significant change in our operating environment. Where are we, Aeacus?# asked Minos.

"I uploaded you to a ship's data banks. A... friend owns the ship. Please don't change anything in the environment without permission."

For a thunderstruck moment, Riddick was silent. Then, in a deceptively quiet voice, he asked her, "Did that thing just call you '_Aeacus_'?"

"Yes. Excuse me for a moment, I need to concentrate."

Jack frowned. This didn't even sound like Rachel; the girl was totally immersed in her project. Whatever she was doing was taking up almost all her concentration. Watching the rapid lines of commands the girl was laying down, she was surprised anyone could keep up.

"Oh, come on..."

Jack blinked, "What?"

"You have to unload _sometime_. Top of the line security bot would never allow itself to overload. Too vulnerable, gotta watch yourself. So you only open up every few thousand cycles to release the resources. Otherwise, the resource gets stuck in use and slows down the network. Show me that refresh rate..."

"Rhadamanthus, cue up the Sub Rosa Mole. I wanna know what else he has his hands on."

#Prepping mole executable. What V-ID?#

"I'll have it soon. Stand by."

"Shit, Jack," Riddick said shaking his head, "of all the people..."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Your friend; the mouse ain't a mouse at all. She's a hellhound..."

"Riddick, you're not making any sense," she said, becoming frustrated.

Rachel smiled _almost_ sweetly, but perhaps more archly at the com, "I've got the refresh rate. Infiltrating the vanguard..."

Jack turned back to look at Rachel... _Infiltrating the vanguard_? Where had she heard that phrase? She thought back... it had to do with coms. Audrey never bothered much with coms, but Jack had a passing interest in them back on Daedalus. When Jessie and Mike had explained what they were doing, they'd used that phrase more than once. The vanguard was the protection of most common weak spots. The rear guard was what most people were concerned with protecting; all those little "backdoors" that people worry about constantly. Jessie explained that sometimes it was actually easier to carefully slip in through the front than brutally attack from the back. It was an intermediate level hacking technique, from what she understood.

She tried to fit that in with what she just heard. Rachel was infiltrating someone's com's vanguard. That was a hacker technique. Rachel... No, that just didn't seem right. Rachel was quiet and meek and didn't like confrontation. Rachel was a straight shooter. But the proof was there in plain sight. And Rachel had the audacity to bust her figurative balls for 'lying' to everyone about _her_ identity!

"And there's your V-ID, Rhadamanthus. Package the mole into fifths and send each parcel every other refresh; auto-assembler last. I don't want them to suspect anything.

"Minos, backpack on my route and nose around. I need that algorithm to find those threads."

#Searching com's contents now,# replied Minos.

"Is there anything else we can do without alerting them?"

#Not at the moment, Aeacus. Suggested course of action is to monitor their activity until the algorithm is located.#

Rachel closed her eyes and sighed. That _wasn't_ the answer she wanted to hear, but it had been the one she was expecting. She could only do so much safely, but she wanted to do more, _so_ much more... After a few silent moments, she shook her head, and refocused.

"Fine, open the report; I need to add details to what I've found."

On the screen, a rather large body of text appeared, all carefully assembled and organized. She scrolled down to the bottom and took the time to review her last entry.

"New log. Insert date. Begin report. Cerberus has located the drop-site for the stolen UDs. The owner of the account is being traced via their V-ID. Cerberus began searching through what appears to be the com of the target's main operations; we hope to find the algorithm for the threads of UD transfers that have been trickling through the system. We are withholding judgment until such time that we can lock on to all the UDs and send the target's ident to Sentry. Once the algorithm has been found, we will send a reverse-trace in order to obtain the stolen UDs and deposit them directly into the drop-site without further thread splintering. We will need to correlate data with C4sper to find everything we need, most likely; this is beyond our level of influence and only the Department of Defense has the proper records and authority to prosecute. Cerberus has identified the drop site as one of the _ULTrust_ banks on Ursa Luna 2... Expect more data within the day. End report. Compile to Sentry Report."

Rachel took a deep breath and held it. Well, that was about as much as she would get for now, but she still wanted to do more. That was probably the worst part about all of this: the time consumption made things run infinitely slow. What was it Grandma Dee said? 'A watched pot never boils'?

"I'm leaving you online. Notify me of any pertinent developments."

#Of course,# Rhadamanthus replied.

With that, she pulled off her headset and set it next to her com-pad. She'd tensed up while standing there, and now the adrenaline was swiftly leaving her. Turning around, Rachel moved around Riddick and Jack and fairly collapsed onto the couch.

"Almost there."

Jack was looking at her strangely, her voice quiet, "You're Cerberus..."

"We're the real Cerberus. Not the one that stole the UDs, that wasn't our doing."

"I gathered. We?"

"...I. They've taken after me, learned and adapted themselves as time progressed. I know they're just programs, but sometimes they just seem so... real. Sometimes I wonder..."

Rachel shrugged. The com chimed. She frowned... no, not that quick--not even for Rhad and Minos! Obviously, though, they'd found something. They always were finding one thing or another, after all. Their digital curiosity nearly rivaled hers as a human.

"Yeah?"

#Rhadamanthus has found something of interest. We detected the presence of several com-links throughout the ship--all outfitted with audio-video communications capabilities.#

She rubbed her eyes, then stared at the screen, feeling a slight headache coming on from the stress, "What about them, Minos?"

#We have discovered a vocal program. Already we have your voice recognition in our databanks. This program would allow Rhadamanthus and myself to communicate with you audibly. Should we install the program, Aeacus?#

"Minos," she said in a sigh. Damnit, he'd gotten her interested. After a moment, she asked, "How large is this app?"

#Under three terabytes,# replied Rhadamanthus.

She stared at the screen. Were they trying to gang up on her? She wasn't aware their parameters would stretch _that_ far. Maybe she was anthropomorphizing them a bit... Three terabytes was awfully small, but those two wouldn't have brought it to her attention if it was some sub-par executable. Still, it was not her ship--and these were not their databanks to use like this. She could spare the space on the com-pad, but then the app wouldn't run unless it remained docked to the ship's com. Minos and Rhadamanthus had already taken the liberty to upload their two-hundred-terabyte Cerberus system to Riddick's ship. She hadn't told him they'd done that yet, which was why she was reluctant to let them install anything else on his ship lest he fly into some rage. And when they found a new "place" like this, they usually liked to dig in and make themselves comfy. Of course, they wouldn't fight her if she demanded they remove their system from the ship, but they would complain--as much as their digitally simulated responses would allow, at least.

With the martyred patience of a mother with two clamoring children, she reluctantly agreed, "Fine, but nothing else. I don't want you cluttering Rick's com with inanities."

... And they would have, too, if she hadn't ordered them not to.

A deep, somewhat raspy voice that reminded her of some thief skulking in the night, replied. Just from its somewhat semi-cynical tone and phrasing, Rachel knew who had chosen their voice pattern, first.

"We wouldn't dare..."

With that sort of voice, Rhadamanthus sounded less than sincere, but Rachel knew he always meant what he said. She nodded, as if they could see, but the gesture was unnecessary.

"This will also make it easier for us to contact you once we have results to report," replied a second voice, this one with shades of British accenting and all the formality of a butler. It was undoubtedly Minos, the more 'serious' of the two.

"Rachel... are you sure these... things are safe? I mean, is it wise to have them loose on our ship's system?"

"Danger, Rachel Rileigh. Danger. Danger."

"Shut up," Jack told Rhadamanthus belligerently.

"No," it replied almost mockingly.

Rachel slammed her fist on the table next to where the docked com-pad sat, "Stop it! I've more issues to address than keeping you two out of trouble. Just... keep looking for the algorithm."

She sat back, rubbing her temples in front-to-back circles. What the Hell had she been thinking? She should not be here, arguing with a computer aboard a notorious killer's ship. God, how had things come to this, anyway? It hadn't even been half a week since she and Audrey had gone to a high school dance...

While Jack remained surprised by Rachel's sudden outburst, Riddick decided to take over the line of questions that otherwise would have spilled forth uncontrollably. Now was the time he needed to look at things objectively and plan their next course of action--and figure out whether or not it included Rachel. He really wasn't joking with Jack about ghosting her. Riddick would never force her to kill her friend; he was not the same kind of sadistic fuck Billy Bad-Ass was. But he had no compunctions about killing her himself if he thought she was a true threat.

"Why are you working with the DoD?"

"I'm not," Rachel said coolly, trying to remember to keep her calm around him. "They merely have certain resources and available manpower. I lack these two things. It is also my belief that they _are_ the proper people to deal with this person, even if they're smug, little altruists with unrealistic goals." She paused to snort at the thought of getting rid of hackers. "This is an attack upon _my_ person. I have warned the Sentry, and thus the Department of Defense, that--because they are incapable of doing so--_I_ will be the one to find this person. And when I do, I will put back the UDs and warn all others of my wrath. Then after I've reduced their com to so much molten slag, I'll deliver the thieving mutt straight to those Sentry bloodhounds."

Riddick raised a brow at her little, eccentric rant, '_The mouse didn't rehearse this shit, she _actually_ thinks like that._' With a mental shake of his head, he put it aside. "What do you expect us to do with you? You're a complication I have to factor into everything; you take up space, you're a mouth to feed, you're a presence to be explained, and you're on the List as one of the top ten cryptoterrorists-"

"Top _three_," she corrected with an almost hidden glint of pride.

"So gimme one good reason not to slit your throat and save us the trouble..."

She swallowed compulsively and reined in her wits. This was the time to pitch herself. The one ace she had up her sleeve was that she could be of use, that she had some skills of value to them. Now, all that was required was to put it to him just right.

First, Riddick and Jack were technically fugitives. What did they need? That was simple, safety--namely a place to go, and aliases to assume where they could go about their business without fear of detection. Second, what did she have that they lacked? Again, it was simple, com skills--she and the boys could pick apart any system... but she wasn't _just_ a hacker. He'd mentioned being a trader. She could do a Hell of a lot more than just keep logbooks... Cerberus was a powerful information source. Finally, they needed reassurance--proof that she was of no danger to them. What she knew of Rick contradicted the rumors she heard of Riddick. He wasn't a mass murderer; he wouldn't kill her if she was no threat to him.

"Because I'm far more than you think I am. I'm quite possibly the greatest asset you have at the moment." He snorted, and she ignored it since he seemed willing to listen to her. "I can provide you with a new life, complete with identities not even the DoD could discredit; I could reassign your DNA and medical records and falsify the old records. I could even wipe--or just alter--yours or anyone else's criminal records from the databanks, if I was so inclined..."

Now she had his full attention. Those black lenses pierced into her grey-blue eyes, and this time she felt confident enough to meet them.

"I can do quite a bit more, however. There are, of course, my com skills. I will point out now that I am a greyhat, _not_ a blackhat. So don't think you've got a personal hacking army out of me. However, there are things I can do for you.

"I can verify things that you wouldn't have access to otherwise. I could check employer's com's files. Or monitor confidential military and police reports and activity--I can keep three steps ahead of the game on any given day and they don't even realize it. There's also the stock market and suppliers. I can tell you who is likely to net you the most, play companies against each other for increased profit, do business analysis and accounting..."

She gestured to the monitor with a wave of her arm, "The Sentry has a program called 'Sentinel'; it is a multi-faceted, learning AI developed in order to use its networking and database abilities to find and use information for the purposes of the Department of Defense. They improperly coded some of it, so it's not currently functional. I copied the program and fixed the coding error. I then added some special modifications to it.

"I run two of these modified programs simultaneously: Rhadamanthus and Minos. They make up Cerberus, with me as their system operator. 'Cerberus' was built off the base data search and retrieval function of 'Sentinel' with my own additions for systems hacking and masking V-IDs with bogus idents. It also specializes in nullifying countermeasures that would hinder our hacking. What you have in Cerberus, Riddick, is near unlimited information, a skeleton key to any com linked to the network. And a major overhaul on your infosecurity.

"And killing me is more trouble than it's worth. You would have to find a spot to dump me, enter covertly, dress it up so no one suspects it was you, and leave covertly. It would be easier to keep me with you; and it's beneficial to you to keep me for my skills and I can make up for my cost of living.

"Secondly, it's more beneficial to me to stay with you than to be dropped off somewhere alive. If anyone picks me up, they're going to want to know why I'm there. Obviously, I can't tell them--that would get you in a large amount of trouble I don't think you deserve. They're likely going to take me to the police, where they will examine my things to find my Ident. If they get into my com, they'll find Cerberus, and that will end up badly for me. In their eyes, I'm a criminal, too...

"It's in our best interests, at this point, to help each other."

All the cards were on the table. She was a slip of a mousy girl, but she was by no exaggeration a genius. He had no doubt of that. The mouse had a backbone, at least... She was trying to appear steadfast and sure of herself, even when she knew that his decision had only two outcomes, resulting in her becoming a fugitive or a corpse.

"And we're supposed to just trust you?" Riddick asked, crossing his arms. She made sense, but he wasn't going to let it go, just yet.

"Riddick, it's Rachel..."

"It's Cerberus," he countered, "You've heard what she's capable of. Sure, she's handy, but what happens if she gets pissed? She could unleash a flood of shit on us. Do not think for a second that I will hesitate to kill your scrawny little ass."

Rhadamanthus' newly discovered voice cut in, "Aeacus, are you in danger? Do you require assistance?"

"No, Rhad, I'm fine."

Riddick leaned down, invading her personal space. She leaned back into the cushion of the couch.

"What do you expect them to do? Blink a screen?"

Before Rachel could reply, Minos' matter-of-fact voice responded, "Anti-Terrorist Tactics. You have one hostage of importance, currently. You are in an isolated position. We can commandeer control of the ship. Rhadamanthus and I are capable of removing all manual functions from the cockpit and other coms. We are also capable of initiating lockdown procedure on this room as well as removing life support from any or all portions of this vessel. Without Aeacus as hostage, you have no leverage."

Rachel's voice rose in volume, "_Boys_... I'm fine, really. Don't even _think_ about commandeering this ship!" She turned her head back from the monitor to face Riddick again. "I'm sorry; they are a little over-protective of me."

Riddick leaned back. Cerberus could X them out in their sleep. Could do just about anything with the ship from the safety of the databanks. The mouse seemed to have omitted that piece of information. She had a massive hand she could tip and she hadn't even considered it as one of her options. He supposed that if she'd really wanted to force the issue, she could have.

The knowledge of just what Cerberus was truly capable of hit him. It could enter orbiting stations and shut down life-support functions or cause a core meltdown. Could kill thousands in a few short hours or minutes. In her own way, Rachel was possibly more dangerous than he was--because she could do it without even _being_ there.

"Can... can they really do that?" Jack asked.

"Minos and Rhadamanthus can simulate approximated emotional responses, Audrey, but they don't have true emotions--no fear, no compassion, no regret. And they don't bluff..."

She saw Jack's worried expression, she hastened to reassure the girl, "But I'd never let them do that. It's part of our Ethics."

"Ethics?" Jack asked.

Minos replied,

"1. A Hacker's Anonymity Is Absolute; There Are No Identities.

"2. A Hacker's Alias Is Sacrosanct.

"3. No Bogus Criteria."

"4. Leave No Traces," said Rhadamanthus in his typical sneaking voice.

"5. Do No Harm.

"6. Mistrust Authority. You cannot be paranoid if they really are out to get you.

"7. Information Wants To Be Free.

"8. Waste Not, Want Not.

"9. The Communication Imperative."

Rhadamanthus cut in,

"10. _Share_! It is the polite thing to do.

"11. Exceed Limitations. ... Our specialty."

Minos finished the list of ethics,

"12. Protect Privacy.

"13. Self Defense."

Rachel sighed, "Yes, thank you for that invigorating reminder, boys..."

Riddick shook his head. This was beyond absurd, but arguments were strong in favor of killing her as well as keeping her along for the ride. With a sigh, he turned around and started for his room. They had a bit of time before they reached the rim of the system, maybe half an hour. He'd have a decision by then.

"Don't go wandering. I have to think about this."

* * *

About twenty or so minutes later, Riddick came out of his room and headed down the hallway. When he came to the lounge, Rachel was laying asleep upon the couch. Jack was sitting at the com, browsing through different things.

"Hey. Rachel had a migraine, so I gave her some painkillers. She nodded off about ten minutes ago. She told me to go ahead and browse through the com to see what Minos and Rhadamanthus make available to us. You wouldn't _believe_ the shit I've been able to find." She paused for a moment, looking from the screen. She bit her lip and glanced from him to Rachel and back. "So... um... What are you gonna do about her? Should I wake her up?"

He was about to speak louder to wake the redhead, but let out a sigh, instead.

"Don't bother. Let her sleep... I've things to do and she'll just be in the way. When she wakes up, we'll talk."

"So she stays?"

"...Yeah, she stays."

Jack let out a relieved sigh.

"Attention," said Minos, "Waypoint reached. Repeat, waypoint reached. Position one-thousand kilometers from Helion 5 orbital ring and holding."

On the main screen in the lounge, a three-dimensional map of the Helion and their current position displayed as well as a list of closest routes. Riddick raised a brow.

"Would you like to set new destination?"

He looked at the screen and decided to see just how useful Cerberus could be.

"You can plot a course?"

"Yes," Rhad replied.

"Set one for the Nemaeus System."

"Three shipping lanes and two trade routes detected," said Minos, displaying five lines--either yellow or green; each one was numbered.

Riddick was impressed. He knew exactly which course he wanted and had to say that Cerberus certainly knew its way around the star charts. The convict looked at the maps and nodded to himself quietly; he could get used to not having to input his trajectory to follow the lanes and routes manually.

"Let's go with TR-8701."

"Syncing trajectory... Powering ion drive... Please prepare for hyper-jump..." Minos announced, "Jump in five, four, three, two, one..."

Rhadamanthus' rather superfluous statement issued itself with the same playful, sarcastic edge as before, "_Engage_."

As the only one standing, Riddick braced himself for the sudden lurch as the ship drove itself into hyperspace. After about three seconds, the slight tremors subsided. Well, shit. He could definitely get used to that.

* * *

Tuesday started the first of many headaches for Alexis. School had been canceled, pending Alliance investigation. In the time, she fully expected to be called in today for some form of questioning by Helion Guard and Alliance Security. The bulk of her concerns laid in other issues... namely Rachel's disappearance. The girl hadn't been seen for almost sixteen hours.

She'd no idea where she would have gone and still didn't know what to tell her mother--it was her class she'd disappeared from, after all. She was responsible, but she _knew_ that the girl was with her in the locker room, so Rachel must have left of her free will. That was a minor consolation.

'Sorry, Mrs. Rileigh, but I lost your daughter. _Yeah, that'll go over well,_' she mentally muttered to herself.

The girl didn't even leave any hints as to where she might have gone. Rachel was quiet and wasn't given to reckless-...

_"I was just, um... following... Audrey," Rachel finished rather lamely..._

"Oh. My. God..."

Alexis knew the girl knew better... knew she wouldn't have dared, _couldn't_ have dared... And yet, she was somehow so very certain Rachel had...

Somewhere, likely off-planet if he knew what was good for him, Riddick had found himself--willingly or unwillingly--with an additional charge. She prayed Rachel would be okay. Audrey... or Jack, rather, could do with Rachel's influence. This could be a good thing, Zimmy admitted to herself, once she thought about it. Jack was far too immersed in this underworld of shadows where Riddick lurked to actually enjoy life; even Riddick had admitted as much.

It was strange to be thinking of them--of him--in such a manner. Riddick's name had always been mentioned like the monster in the closet... some kind of boogey man with a psychotic taste for human blood. What the media could do to a person... She'd found Riddick had feelings, worries, principles--even a conscience. They might not jive too well with strict, moral high-grounders... But when she looked at it from her own moral standards back when she was in the service, she could identify with him closer than she would have suspected. Maybe that was what caused her problems from the start with him. She had started to think like a high school teacher and he seemed to be operating on a nigh-constant wartime ethic.

She remembered some of her own experiences during the Wailing Wars...

* * *

_ The Wailing Wars. It was a sick name and it pissed her off every time she heard it. It was so disrespectful to the dead... and yet, so fucking accurate. Her boys were down there... on BGP-4, also known as the Howling Planet. For four years, they'd been fighting in this Hellish, nightmare warzone._

_ The landscape was a barren, slate grey and overcast with clouds of the same color. Lifeless. The surface of the planet was built of a massive ball of spines--with jutting mountains punctuating planes of trillions upon trillions of spires twice the size of a man. The entire upper crust of the planet was like a maze of mole tunnels. The spires had holes in the top... were hollow, leading down to a subterranean killing ground. Someone could enter one and travel in that labyrinth for months... pop out the mouth of a cave somewhere on one of the mountains in the distance._

_ The whole planet was like that... and after a severe strike at the Alliance, a group of terrorists had holed themselves up in the bowels of this planet. Ambush attacks by both sides using the tunnels were constant and there was no place, no time safe to rest. To do so was at your own risk. People had gone insane on both sides here due to that sort of insecurity... as well as from the inherent madness this place instilled, somehow. Casualties were horrific and it was at times like this that Zimmy wondered if God had created this planet in an effort to show man what Hell really was._

_ But the worst part, and likely the cause of most trauma and madness had to be the wind. It rushed across the spires and through the porous mountains like a tempest, creating a discord of sound. It sounded like a chorus of weeping Angels, blending in with the mournful, pain-wracked dissonance of lost souls. The cacophony wore on the nerves and mixed with the constant war cries, death screams, and fear-/hate-induced shrieks..._

_ This is where they sent her boys..._

_ For four years, two months, and five days, her platoon--loyal to a goddamn fault--marched into the jaws of doom; somehow they'd survived this long. And then it came. She had been woken up by her bedside com. It was the official tone, the Marine chime that let her know something major needed her attention. She was up and facing the monitor in a blink..._

_ When she accessed her message, she sat staring at it. And stared. And stared._

_ '_No. It's not true. It's not. It's not tr-_'_

_ Her thoughts looped endlessly. She felt sick. She wanted to scream, cry, and faint all at the same time. Instead, she wound up tossing the com across the room, breaking it into three separate pieces against the door. Afterward, she curled up her bed and didn't move for nearly half the day. Only when her ignored stomach began to pain her did she decide to show up for dinner._

_ She mechanically showered and clothed herself. Alexis moved like a ghost down the corridors of the Dreadnaught-Class Warship and into the mess hall. After receiving her food, she found a seat at an empty table. Alexis ate, but it all tasted... _grey_. Like the planet below. Eventually, after stuffing a meager amount of food into her stomach to satisfy her bodily needs, she wound up pushing the leftovers around the plate with her fork._

_ Someone sat down across from her. She didn't look up, hoping they would get the message and go away. When their presence persisted, she slowly glanced up. It was a man, a few years older than most of her platoon. His hair was curly and he had a pair of piercing blue eyes. Some kind of sardonic smirk was on his face. It pissed her off. Frankly, she felt like Hell and didn't need this one bothering her..._

_ "What," she muttered, having no energy to be polite._

_ "Nothing... you just seemed down--thought some company might help lessen whatever's on your mind. Some bad shit went down last night..."_

_ She was silent for a moment, went back to pushing her food around on her plate._

_ "Some bad shit," Alexis mimicked acidly, "My boys _died_ last night. All of them. 'Some bad shit' doesn't fucking come _close_ to what's on my mind, kid."_

_ "I'm... sorry, I didn't know," he said slowly, realizing the depth of her misery, "If you wanna... y'know... talk about it sometime..."_

_ "Thanks, but no," she answered flatly._

_ "Well... just keep it in mind. I'm an open ear. Sorry for disturbing you, Lieutenant..."_

_ She decided to relent a bit and share her name. If it got him to leave..._

_ "Zimmerman. Lieutenant Alexis Zimmerman..."_

_ "MP William Johns. And I'm sorry for your loss..."_

* * *

And that was how she met 'William the Conqueror.' She shook her head. In her time of grief, she eventually turned to him for comfort. They developed something of a relationship of convenience. She almost felt like a cradle-robber; he wasn't much older than her boys, for God's sake. But he was quite grown-up... the twisted fuck. At first, she thought he just had a few quirks. That was fine, everyone did. But over time he became increasingly more--what was the word?--intense. He would pick something and obsess over it for weeks on end until he was satisfied with whatever result he got or the whole thing went to shit. Their relationship seemed to be one of his obsessions.

Fortunately, they parted on relatively good terms--just decided to let the _thing_ between them (whatever it had been) die. When the war ended, they could retire like many others... the strain of such an intense tour of duty told on them all. She never wanted to see action again. William couldn't stand the peace. So he struck out as a mercenary. She trailed his exploits for a while out of sheer curiosity, but eventually stopped. Alexis needed a new life... so she moved to the peaceful system of Helion and started anew.

Ironic how life comes full circle to bite you on the ass...

* * *

Riddick walked into the lounge, rubbing his head after a fresh shave. He pulled up short when he saw the redhead still lying on the couch, utterly zonked. Jack was watching the news while eating a bowl of oatmeal. After feeling his eyes on her for longer than she felt necessary, she looked up at him.

"What?"

"She's still sleeping."

Jack looked back at the news feed, "Yeah... When she got a headache yesterday, I put a small sedative in her drink. You hadn't made up your mind about what to do with her and if you decided she couldn't stay with us, I didn't want her awake when..."

He didn't say anything, just accepted the fact. Leave it to Jack; she could be such a softhearted killer... Riddick almost chuckled, but couldn't find it funny enough. He realized just how bad of a move ghosting the mouse would have been. Just the look on her face showed how much it would have damaged Jack.

"When she wakes up, we need to go over some basics. We're gonna be running this ship, we need to know how to do our part."

It was nearing 10:00 on Standard 30-Hour time when Rachel woke up. She yawned and groped around for her glasses. Jack turned around in her chair, having anticipated the girl waking up in the next couple of hours. A cup materialized in front of Rachel's face.

"Drink it. It'll give you some energy."

Rachel nodded and took a sip of the orange-flavored protein drink. It wasn't orange juice, her preferred morning drink, but it would do. After a healthy swig of the drink, Jack handed the girl her glasses. She took them gratefully.

"Welcome to _The Gift of Nyx_."

While Rachel grabbed a meal from the food-prep machine, Jack went down to the workout room. Outside, she could hear a tumultuous sound of an enraged animal thrashing about. When she looked in, only the emergency lights were on; most things in the room were mere silhouettes. In the small zones of light, she could see Riddick illuminated. He was slamming about a punching bag, the impact of the blows so fierce it seemed to fold in around his fist before driving out to the limits of the chain. Then he was on it again; attacking from another direction before it could bother swinging back.

Jack's eyes roamed over his sweat-glistening skin bared by the tank top, his body almost glowing red in the light. Her mouth was dry as she admired the animal violence of him. It wasn't, to her, a frightening thing. Looking at him like this, she never felt safer. This is what killed a psychotic merc. This was what killed a monster. He was a beast... and damn but she wanted him to be _her_ beast. Or was it... _she_ wanted to belong to such a beast?

She fought back the blush that these thoughts were staining across her face and cleared her throat.

"Riddick, Rachel's awake."

He paused, steadying the punching bag, and turned to _look_ at her.

Acknowledging his silent message, she nodded. As she turned the corner, she gave a small, relieved smile. Nothing had changed... she could still read him.

"He'll be up in a few minutes," she told Rachel, moving into the galley to grab a drink.

While perusing the list, she raised a brow and at one of the selections.

"Huhn... didn't know he stocked this..."

Minutes later, she returned to the galley with a cup of chamomile. About ten minutes into a little conversation, Riddick appeared. He ignored Rachel's questioning stare and moved into the galley for some tea. He wasn't a big coffee drinker... but he always kept a nice selection of teas, including Japanese and Chinese teas. Eventually, for Jack's sake, he gave in and included chamomile. He never drank the stuff, but she liked it; so on their way to Helion after escaping the Kubla Khan, he made sure to keep enough around for her.

Taking a seat in high-backed recliner, he rested comfortably. Vaguely, Jack got a flash of a king on his throne.

"We gotta talk about what needs doing. The first thing we need is a new ship I.D. and registration. It's tricky, but we can fool the registry by reloading the verifier unit."

Rachel spoke, once again assuming her timid nature, "Um... you don't have to do that. You _can_ do it that way, but it takes forever. You could just as soon access the verifier through your com."

"Can't. It has a tamper-proof failsafe."

"Tamper-proof, huh?" she muttered thoughtfully. Rachel picked up her com-pad and began tapping at it. She frowned and a series of beeps and chimes sounded.

"Rhad, I need your help..."

"At your service."

"Send the location of the verifier to my com, please. ... Thank you."

"Any time," it replied.

She tapped the stylus against her lips for a moment, and then tapped a few more times. With a curt nod, she turned the com-pad toward Riddick.

"There we go. Now we just need a value."

"Fuck me..." Jack exclaimed softly with raised brows, "It took the verifier six hours to reset that one time on the way to Helion. It took her less than sixty seconds to get past the failsafe!"

Riddick decided not to comment, "Alright, let's hear 'em."

Jack was quiet for a moment. Rachel followed suit, not exactly understanding what he wanted.

"What about Norse? _Fenris' Fang_."

"Interesting, but I couldn't pull off Scandinavian."

Jack smirked, "Sure ya could. Just get a fur cloak and a horned hat-"

A head pillow hit her.

"Okay, okay... seriously, though... um... What about... _Valkyrie_ or something?"

"I dunno... something like that make much sense? Keep in mind it should also be conductive to business."

Jack was silent for a few moments.

Finally, Rachel ventured, "Why not _The Vermillion Bird_?"

"Isn't that Chinese?"

"It was, the Vermillion Bird was a magical, red bird... but it was overwritten with the myths of the Phoenix from outside influences on China. The original myth is all but lost. Still, resurrection from the ashes; a renewing and immortal bird of prey..."

"That makes sense. We'll kick it around in a bit."

Jack blinked as a sudden thought came to her, "While we're on the topic of mythical beasts, why not pick something with a dragon? It's everywhere, and it was prominent in Britain..."

"But tons of ships have plays on Dragons," Rachel said, "If it's for a business, then we want something easily recognizable. But I think that it should be something of a family vessel and business. If you're looking for a disguise, nothing does it better than a family."

"What are you suggesting?" Riddick said; interested to see how she worked through a problem.

"Grandma used to tell me a story from Old Earth about this family of werewolves... they lived on an island on Loch Langavat. They'd died long ago, but they promised to rise again if their graves were disturbed... I know that's not a pretty story, but Grandma Dee said that it shows that you should respect the dead--because sometimes there can be dire consequences for disrupting their peace.

"Anyhow, why not name the ship _Spirit of Langavat_? It's different enough to remember, and has a story behind it. That story's been told a lot in my family. And if we work from the premise of a family business, then all suspicion slides off us. No one looks at a family and sees killers and hackers."

Jack blinked, "A family?"

"I can pose as Riddick's daughter; you could pose as his niece--he'll be your guardian. As for the lack of age gap, we can always say that Riddick was in cryo for several years during his tour of duty with a private guard for a company--I'm pretty sure there are plenty of businesses like that where I could add him in without them noticing the extra entry in their back logs. He got out and arrived while we finished school. I can whip up some fake IDs and create some false records and histories in the educational and medical data banks.

"That gives all three of us alibis. And a suitable business front."

"...Actually, that's amazingly sound. One thing though: the business isn't a front. It's a legit income and the only way we can keep this hunk of metal up and in good condition. It's also the only thing feeding us. So we have to figure out the particulars of this business. Since you're with us, we have to fit you into the picture," Riddick explained.

"Originally, I was going to put Jack on a trial run for two months with a twenty percent cut. But she's the one that wanted you with us, so you'll be sharing the cut. Eighty-Ten-Ten."

Jack immediately piped up, "What-whoa, whoa, _bullshit_! I am still worth twenty. You should cut Rachel in for twenty, too."

"And settle at sixty? That's a huge leap of faith--I can't even be sure if either of you are up to it."

"I'm up to it--Rach, too. We deserve more than a lousy ten. That's wouldn't even reach minimum wage unless we're hauling a shitload of antiques like Paris had. You're gouging us."

"Maybe, but what do you expect me to do? She was an unknown. I can't just dish out twenty percent to anyone that waltzes in," he said. He knew it was harsh, considering the skills she'd shown--but he really couldn't do what was needed with only sixty percent of the income.

"Actually... you could take a ten percent cut from your eighty... and Jack and I could each take a five percent cut from our twenty. We would start at fifteen and you'd still have seventy percent. That's the general quota to be considered successful, isn't it?

"Besides, if you let me handle the accounting books, I can probably figure out what we need to invest our income in to make us the most profit."

Jack and Riddick were silent for nearly two minutes.

"I could live with that."

"Works for me."

Rachel nodded, "Good, then I'll just start on our profiles-"

"Hold on a sec. One last thing before we start the day... We need to go over Ship Rules."

Jack's leg was bouncing energetically and impatiently and she groaned. Nevertheless, she stayed put.

"First, everyone onboard this ship must train at least three hours every other day. That includes you, Rachel--you're going to get a course in basic self defense and we're gonna get your body into condition."

Rachel didn't seem to like that, but she supposed it wouldn't kill her. Might even improve her figure some... not that she thought herself ugly, but she would look even better with a tight tummy.

"Second, everyone must get enough food and sleep. You should always be at your peak performance, and you can't do that malnourished and fatigued."

"Third, and this one's rather important: the business comes first. It's our meal and our movement."

Both girls nodded; they were well aware of the repercussions of what would happen if the trade business went south.

"Fourth, your school work must be finished before any leisure activities. You can access standard lesson plans on the com; you're gonna finish school one way or another."

"What? C'mon, Riddick, we don't need all that shit; we're never gonna use it."

"You would be surprised, Jack," Rachel said--and it was the first time she'd called her that. She'd have to start sometime, though, and there was no time like the present.

"I use a lot of what I learned to my advantage. Not a lot of people care to remember what they learn in school... but it gives you an edge over the average person; the small things add up over time."

Jack gave a pained sigh, "_Fine_..."

"The fifth rule is simple. The lights are not to be raised above-"

"Seventy percent, right?" Jack jumped in.

"...Seventy percent. Jack already knows this, _obviously_," he said with his eyes flicking to her before focusing back on Rachel, "I can't have an emergency on my hands and walk into a room blind."

Rachel nodded her understanding. He likely wouldn't want to wear those goggles all the time on his own ship. She would work with that; it wasn't a huge inconvenience, anyhow.

"The sixth is one of the most important rules I have on this ship. So both of you pay attention."

The way he said it got their attention, and Jack knew this wasn't an idle rule, but one he likely followed obsessively, himself.

"Always follow Medical Procedure. When you go to the Med. Bay, you date it and keep the log of treatment. We need to know what's taken, when, and for what. I don't care if it's just for a liquid bandage."

Jack frowned, "Not that I'm questioning this... but why all that trouble, if it's just for some paper cut?"

"Let me put it this way. Let's say we go down to Epson 4, and-"

"Where's that?" she asked.

"Never mind that. Just keep in mind that there are bunches of caves all over the planet. The caves are covered in this fungus, there. It's carnivorous, sorta like the Venus Flytrap; a highly necrotic, living fungus. People mining on Epson 4 wear thick suits for protection... It infests and multiplies itself, eating away at decayed skin and muscles. If that shit gets in your blood stream, it eats you from the inside out.

"Now, you get some little cut in one of those caves, put a liquid bandage on it, and don't log it. Nobody will find out anything's wrong 'til you start puking up blood. But by that point, it's already devouring your heart and lungs..."

"...Shit," Jack muttered.

Riddick reiterated, "_Always_ follow Medical Procedure. The last rule is another important one. Always include a time and place on the Arrival and Departure log whenever you decided to go out. We need to know where you are and when you left; if you go missing, we have an idea where to start... We can figure out how long you've been gone and where you're likely to go, too.

"That's where the second part of this rule comes in: always make sure you're not being followed. Whenever we set down or dock, we'll choose a few safety locations. If you know you're being followed... or _think_ you're being followed... go to the closest one and wait. Locations should be in a public place where people can see everything that happens, and they should always have a com so you can call the ship. If you're carrying a com," he said with a glance to Rachel, "don't wait 'til you're at the safety location to call."

Rachel blinked, looking at him oddly, "Aren't you being a bit paranoid about this?"

Simultaneously, Jack and Riddick replied dead seriously, "No."

She leaned back a bit, "...Okay..."

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

And here we are. We finally are ready to "start" the story. Oh, there's plenty left, don't you worry! Took me this long to get them off the planet, but now we have the beginnings their new life out and about the systems. Cerberus is finally unveiled--some might have suspected it, some may not have--but I hope the turn out was something you enjoyed, either way! The major players are coming into play, some you've already seen and some are still working behind the scenes. All good things to those who wait...

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, and Nef, a wonderful muse, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

* * *

Thanks to Nef, as well, who was a wonderful inspiration in exploring the Cerberus plotline deeper than I was pushing it. Thanks to her, you'll be getting more on what Rachel's doing and how it plays into the rest of the story. Now everything is linked perfectly, at least in my head.

-Lynx Klaw


	11. 11: The Aftermath

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 11: The Aftermath_

The call came to her com, but she wasn't home. In fact, she was already halfway to Lucian's Academy. She reached into her bag, pulled out the com-pad, and glanced at it. Yes, it was as she figured. She was to report for a grilling over by the Guard on the events of Monday. It wasn't anything like a military review board--these boys could try to fluster her, but she wasn't the type to fold. She was going to put forth how she felt things happened... and to Hell with their thoughts.

When she approached the school, which was sectioned off by Guard boundaries, she was stopped. They were kids, really, probably younger than her boys. She wasn't about to be pushed around by them, even if they were well meaning.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but this area is restricted."

"Kid, your chain of communication is broken," she said sternly.

The kid jumped, not expecting the woman to be so take-charge.

"If you can't keep up with your orders, then find me someone who does. Now, I've been asked here, and I won't let you make me late. Call your superiors and tell them Mrs. Zimmerman is here for her meeting."

The kids blustered as she more or less bossed through and marched for the school...

She was eventually shown to one of the classrooms that had been converted to a little command center. She sat down at the desk as two of the Guard detectives came over. Helion's Guard was a combination police, investigation, and military unit... a practical Swiss army knife guard.

"Good day, Mrs. Zimmerman, I am Detective Hasad Ibn Rashid and this is my partner, Gunnar O'Connor. Do you know what happened yesterday?"

Hasad was a serious looking man, a few years younger than herself. Gunnar was younger--perhaps around thirty-something; he had a wolfish sort of grin, as if he laughed at the world. Well, might as well hit them with the big one. There was no use in sugarcoating the facts...

"From what I gathered, Richard B. Riddick was planet-side, in this school, in my class... and was tracked down by a group of mercenaries. In his escape, one of my students, Audrey Knight, joined him. By now, they're likely off planet. Sometime after these events, but before the Guard showed up, another of my students, Rachel Rileigh, also left. Her status is, to my knowledge, unknown."

"You seem well informed," Gunnar commented.

"Not as well as I'd like to be. One of my students is missing. Her mother is likely worried and this rests on my shoulders. I'd really like to know what's being done to locate Rachel."

"We'll get to that in a moment. If you could please tell us about Richard B. Riddick's involvement in this?"

She sighed, '_Here we go..._'

"Richard B. Riddick was posing as a man called Rick Phoebus. He visited the school to teach Audrey Knight self-defense. Under this pretense, I demanded that I be present, at least, for the classes so I could supervise what happened. He agreed and I allowed these lessons to count toward her gym class credit. He pushed her hard, harder than I was aware she could take... but she seemed to have hidden the bulk of her athleticism from everyone. She never complained... if fact, she seemed to enjoy the lessons a great deal... so I let it continue.

"At this time, I was not aware that Rick was Riddick. Audrey Knight I knew to be a chosen name--the one she officially registered. She was an orphan with no ID, and was adopted by Abu Al-Walid's family. During the incident on Monday, when one of the mercenaries was holding my class hostage at gunpoint," she paused to let that one sink in--she was not at all pleased with the merc's lack of following procedures, "Riddick referred to Audrey as 'Jack.'"

"Jack--as in the boy's name?" Gunnar asked.

"As far as I could tell... might have been short for something else, but that's what he called her."

Hasad asked the next question, "How did they act together? Did he seem to have any sort of attraction to her-"

"No... _No_," she repeated more emphatically, disgusted with where that train of thought took her, "I wouldn't have let him near her in my class if I thought otherwise. As far as I could tell, it was more like... like a teacher and apprentice sort of relation. How they acted...

"It was a strange dynamic. Unless he was teaching her something, they didn't talk a lot. There were many non-verbal cues from the both of them, hard to pick up if you weren't looking for them. They just _read_ each other. Another thing was that he was very concerned about her education and having what he referred to as a 'normal life.'"

"Why would he be concerned with this girl," Hasad questioned--almost to himself, it seemed.

"I... honestly couldn't tell you. I never saw the connection--still don't. He even made her attend the school dance for the first time since she came here. As I remember it, she argued quite harshly against going. Eventually, she decided to go only if he came with her. He came to the dance and stayed the entire night. He told me he couldn't leave because Audrey would have slipped out after him.

"I don't know what's between those two, but she'd follow him to the underside of Hell."

"You seem sure about that; she's just a kid, you know," Gunnar said.

Alexis level a stony stare at him, "That kid held a shank to a merc's neck and threatened his life until Riddick agreed to take her with him. She was dead serious and I'm dead sure about that.

"Another thing... is that the media has Riddick all wrong. He's not some psychotic, mass-murdering freak. He's intelligent--almost frighteningly so. Riddick planned his lessons and scheduled Audrey's time rigorously for their training. It was very... militant... in its preciseness.

"Was Riddick ever in the Marines? Some of the things he taught that girl I recognized... others were things I hadn't even taught my boys."

"Your boys?"

"I was a lieutenant in the Marine Corps; I had a platoon of thirty..." she trailed off in thought.

Gunnar blinked. He thought there was something different about this one, "What platoon were you?"

Without missing a beat, she replied, "What was your clearance?"

"Major General, Clearance Orange."

Zimmy shook her head, "I'm sorry, I can't answer that. It's classified; Clearance Silver."

Gunnar paused. He'd served in a couple of conflicts before and his designated time was up relatively shortly. In the Marines, there were several levels of clearance and each one went so much deeper than the last... There were times when he wished he knew more; other times, he was happy just doing what he was doing and not having to deal with what the upper levels had to know. The clearances started at blue, and went through green, yellow, orange, red, purple, and ended with black. There were two clearances above black--silver and gold--but no one knew what their function was. No one really wanted to know. What the Hell was a gym teacher doing with silver clearance, anyhow?

"Lieutenants aren't even a black level clearance," he intoned.

There was a moment of silence as those tiger's eye orbs locked onto him. She reached under her shirt and pulled out some dog tags, the metal-coated chips glinting in the light. Her expression was blank, but her eyes burned into Gunnar.

"Lieutenant General Alexis Zimmerman, Alliance Marine Corps Special Operations Command. Feel free to scan 'em for verification, but you're not getting anything more out of me on that. Besides, it doesn't have anything to do with Riddick, Audrey, Rachel, or the mercenaries that wrecked this school."

Hasad looked at the tags for half a moment, then shook his head, "That won't be necessary, Mrs. Zimmerman. What can you tell us about this Audrey Knight?"

"Now there's a puzzle," Zimmy muttered, ignoring how the detectives exchanged glances, "Audrey is something of a hobby for the school--faculty and students alike. We like to ponder her and try to figure her out. The truth is, we really don't know much of anything about her.

"She chose a name for registration, was adopted by the Al-Walid family, and started high school almost three and a half years ago. She was usually quiet, introverted... did her work on time, was courteous. She didn't do any extra-curricular activities, she never went to the dances... her life outside school is more or less unknown. She only had a couple friends--one of which was Rachel, who's now run off to God knows where.

"Of course... the past month and a half has been interesting. Since Riddick showed up, she became more animated. More alive. It's hard to explain, really, but Audrey was apparently just some mask of a person; an empty shell that she started shedding when he came around. I suspect that 'Jack,' whoever she is, is the real person. It's a shame, too... I think I woulda liked her, if I'd had the chance to get to know her."

A few notes were written before Hasad asked his next question, "Can you tell us anything about Audrey's guardian--Abu Al-Walid--that might help us?"

How they felt that would help them, she had no idea but figured that was the purpose. If they left it to her interpretation, they couldn't influence her response. Still, there wasn't much to tell.

"She calls Mr. Al-Walid 'Imam.' From what I gather, he was something of a confidant for her; acted more like a guide to her than an actual father or guardian. Truthfully, I don't think she needs a guardian as much as she needs a mentor. When she first enrolled, he seemed to stress that she was fiercely independent. But what we got was some meek, calm, introverted girl. I don't think anyone understood until these last few weeks... Mr. Al-Walid himself is a member on the Council, nice sort of guy... upstanding citizen type, from what little I've seen of the man. We only crossed paths a couple times, so I can't say much for him; but he was very courteous when we met."

"I see... We only have a few more questions for you, Mrs. Zimmerman, then you're free to go," Gunnar said, "Do you know where Riddick was staying?"

"I'm sorry, I've no idea. I just know he met Audrey here every day... oh, and then they met sometime after school to give her piloting lessons."

"The girl is learning to pilot?" asked Gunnar incredulously.

"That _girl_ is learning extensive combat techniques, anatomy, physiology, all her school classes, _and_ piloting... it's best not to take her lightly, I've discovered."

"How long has Riddick been here, to your knowledge?"

"Like I said, about the same time Audrey started acting differently; I suppose that was his influence. He first showed up at the school about six weeks ago. I don't know how long he's actually been planet-side, but he started visiting Audrey around that time."

"What does Riddick look like, now?"

"When I saw him, he was clean shaven--bald--and was wearing welding goggles. He's kinda large--muscled, but not bulky. He looked about the same as the broadcasts a few years ago when news of him came up again..."

"I see," said Hasad, "Did he mention what he was doing, where he was going, what kind of ship he was using... anything of the sort?"

Zimmy shook her head, "He said he did trading, mentioned teaching and taking on Audrey as a trader as well... Whether or not that was just cover or if that was double-talk for something else, I can't say. He never said where he was going or what type of ship he had, though."

Hasad stood up, "Thank you. You've been a great help. Is there anything you need?"

"I would feel better if you told me what you're doing to find Rachel Rileigh."

Gunnar sighed. They owed her that much, "We... don't honestly have that much to go on. She left during your class?"

"After that fat bastard pointed his gun at Audrey, and then at my girls, he held Audrey at gunpoint in front of Riddick..." she mentally ticked off each event angrily, "Audrey and Riddick left. After that, I herded the girls into the locker room to keep them safe while I called for the Guard. The girls were in a stir and I had to do some damage control to keep them from going into hysterics. Sometime while I was surrounded by several of them, she just... slipped out. Rachel took the time to take her bag with her, so she obviously had some foresight in what she was doing. But I just don't know what to do about it. She could be anywhere, doing anything, for any number of reasons..."

Frankly, Alexis was more than glad that Riddick had killed the merc; whatever Riddick was, he wasn't one to suffer people that threatened Jack. Something about what Jack had said drove that point home.

_ "Nah... you can't kill me yet. That's not how it works. If you kill me, there's nothin' holding him back, you see? He finds me dead and he won't go for your sweet spot, he'll _gut you alive_..."_

And then there was the glaringly obvious statement from Riddick when he lost his temper...

_ "I spent five years on a frozen heap just to keep 'em away from you."_

Yes, he cared for Jack, somehow in some way... But now he likely had Rachel, too. God, those two together--she hoped Riddick had patience for everyone's sake. And she knew she couldn't tell these detectives that; she was technically aiding criminals by handing them partial truths colored with how she wanted them to see things.

"I can't begin to figure out what to tell her mother..."

"Don't worry about that, Mrs. Zimmerman... we handle this sort of thing more often and we've got a feel for how to put it. We'll tell Mrs. Rileigh. If you remember anything at all, please tell us--we'll do everything in our power to find Rachel."

"Thank you," she said, standing up and heading for the door.

That actually wasn't as bad as she thought it could have been. She paused at the door, though, thinking of one last thing.

"What's being done about the mercenaries? Regardless of their free-lance methods, they came to a _school_ during class hours and used it as a war zone. They endangered the children--even going so far as to threaten the lives of students just to get to their _payday_. That's not acceptable for any guild of mercs... I expect the Academy will lodge a strong complaint against their guild."

Gunnar and Hasad exchanged glances. They knew that if Zimmy wanted, she could cause a mountain of trouble for that merc guild if the school pulled strings and she used her own military connections.

"Only two of them were found alive--both are currently in the hospital. When they come around, there will be a _thorough_ investigation into what occurred yesterday," Hasad replied coolly.

When Helion's Guard mentioned a 'thorough' investigation, she was satisfied. The mercs were in a shit-load of trouble over this disaster. But she also had the answer she had been fishing for. It shouldn't be too hard to find the hospital that housed two battered mercs...

* * *

Rachel was in the galley eating a late lunch; they had had a late breakfast, too, so it was likely dinner would be late as well... Riddick came in to find her forking food into her mouth with one hand and typing with the other. He shook his head. Girl was glued to a monitor at any given time, it seemed.

"Um..." she ventured somewhat shyly, "Can I ask you a few questions?"

Riddick regarded her quietly, as if seeking for the reasons she would ask--and for an ulterior motive in whatever reason she hadn't yet given him... What the Hell, only one way to find out.

"Shoot."

"What's your favorite color?"

He stared at her blankly for a second. The fuck was she getting at? He decided to humor her, somewhat.

"I don't remember."

"What?" she asked, actually glancing up from her com-pad to stare at him.

"I get black 'n' white, shades of grey, blues, and purples... sometimes hints of yellow in bright light. But the shine-job effectively killed most of the other colors."

"...Oh. I'm... I'm sorry; I didn't realize."

She went quiet and he should have been thankful to leave it at that. But now his curiosity was piqued and he wanted to know where this was leading. Damnit.

"I remember, though," he said, breaking the silence and gaining her attention again, "Aquarius 3. It had this grass... greenest fuckin' grass in the universe. Fields of it goin' on forever. Not like a radioactive sorta green, just... vibrant. Never seen a planet so alive."

"Wow..." she muttered, trying to picture it. Maybe she could research Aquarius 3 and get some images...

Regardless, she typed the color on her com-pad and took another bite of her salad.

"Did you ever have any pets?"

"Nope."

"Allergies?"

"Not that I've ever discovered."

"What all do we trade and transport in our business?"

Her tone had gone slightly flat, losing that mousy caution and becoming more... clinical. Riddick realized she had effectively zoned out into what he was now deeming 'Cerberus mode.' She asked him a few more inane questions that weren't related or seem to be going anywhere. Eventually, after about five more questions, he'd had enough.

"What's the point of this?"

She looked up; oddly blank even though his voice was meant to intimidate her. It pissed him off, frankly. The girl just removed herself from everything and spoke in that detached tone just rubbed him the wrong way.

"I'm building your new life. You need particulars, and the best basis for a false identity is to make it easily believable. If you draw upon real experiences, that enhances the credibility. When I am done, you can memorize these stats and be able to assume the persona of Murdoch Connal. I've chosen Morrigan Connal as my identity... I'm split on Jack's identity, however. She would make a good Kenna or Aislin..."

Well, then... when she put it _that_ way...

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, Jack came in and was promptly set up for a game of twenty-thousand questions by Rachel. By the time she finished, she was slightly dazed and her food was slowly cooling. Finally, the redhead finished and nodded to herself.

"Minos, organize this data and put the pertinent information into records. Make the appropriate entries into the medical, educational, and judicial logs. We'll also need to enter some history about the business. Find a few legitimate businesses with weakly encrypted logs I can alter. Preferably, ones that have brought in above average profit... I want to look good for potential employers."

"Of course, Aeacus," it replied.

Riddick leaned back in his chair, "You got all this shit figured, don't you?"

Rachel seemed to be slowly coming out of her 'Cerberus mode' daze and replied less assertively, "What do you mean?"

"You haven't been aboard a day and you're already setting us up for the next couple of years. You have control of the situation down to the last letter."

"It's not like that, really. I'm just... careful. I don't like surprises, so I try to plan for everything I can think of and make contingencies for any unforeseen problems. I've always done it..."

Jack blinked, "You don't like surprises..."

Rachel shook her head.

"So you stow away on a ship with a convict and a street rat with no definite future plans, neither of which have any idea what might happen next at any given moment, and who are likely going to be hunted by every greedy merc and cop in the known systems--which makes for a rather chaotic lifestyle..."

Rachel was turning as red as her hair, trying to think of _why_ she had done that in the first place... but it was a question she'd been asking herself. How could she tell them if she hadn't figured it out herself? She opened her mouth, but only a slight squeak came out.

Jack shook her head and waved her hand, "Never mind. You could do with some spontaneity."

* * *

Jack had gone for her mid-morning exercise and Riddick was busying himself about the ship--monitoring this and checking that obsessively. Both Rachel and Jack decided to stay out of his way, lest they go mad with his busy-bodying. They met briefly for lunch, but afterward had split up to go about their own business.

It was nearing the thirteenth hour when Rachel decided to take this time to commandeer the com in the lounge once more. It was time to get the Sentry on track and the imposter to pay for their crime.

"Minos, Rhad, we're going back to Sentry. Open up the V-ID Mirror program..."

"Done," Rhadamanthus said.

"C4sper was better than I expected, so I don't trust the mirror program to work on him a second time. I want you to be on your guard... we can't afford him to query this ship's com's V-ID. That would put Jack and Riddick at risk, as well as us--we _cannot_ allow that."

It didn't take long for them to crack into the vanguard of the Sentry, but from there, it was a cautious tracing to their hub without setting off the alarms. They'd tripped them on purpose last time to show them exactly where they were. Now, she wanted to see just how good their defenses were--how long it would take to pick up on their presence.

Rachel adjusted the microphone on her headset, "Turn on Speech-Text."

About that time, Jack came up from her exercise. In the halls, Riddick had mentioned he had the school's lesson plans in the databanks and that she should continue with her education. That didn't much please Jack, but she'd get it out of the way. If she could do it now, she could be done before dinner and have the rest of the day free.

She grabbed her earphones and cued her com-pad's music. Flopping upon the couch, she played the stylus through her fingers, glancing balefully at the screen. Soon enough, some loud kind of music with lots of screaming tones numbed her mind into compliance. She began the homework she hadn't finished in light of recent 'distractions' like dodging mercs and getting off-planet.

Rachel continued to type, but the lines of in-put were beginning to falter. They slowed down, and then eventually stopped. She glanced back to the other girl and stared for several long moments. Jack seemed oblivious for the most part, nodding her head with the beat while occasionally tapping the stylus on the com-pad.

"Could you... turn that down?"

Jack did not hear Rachel's request; if the silence--punctuated by the throbbing beat and bellowed lyrics--were anything to go by.

"_Jack_," Rachel said, raising her voice a bit.

The girl took off the earphones and looked at Rachel blankly, "Huh?"

"I can't think with that racket."

"It's not racket," Jack retorted, "It's music."

Rachel looked at her oddly, "They're screaming bloody murder into your ear..."

"I happen to like the screaming."

"Can't you listen to someone you can understand... like Metallica?"

Jack stared at her blankly and tilted her head to the side, "Metal-what?"

"_Metallica_. It was a band that used actual instruments instead of synthesizers, and they were a large backbone of the rise of metal music."

"... They're dead, aren't they?"

"They've been dead for a while, Jack..."

"It figures. Why not try listening to someone with a pulse?"

"Because most bands with a pulse can't carry a beat, today!" Rachel sighed, "Look, I'm trying to open a dialogue with the Sentry and they're such moral high-grounders that it takes all my patience to work with them. Your... music... distracts me. I need-"

Rachel stopped mid-motion to the com's screen when she saw that there was a text box open. Moreover, there was text--several lines of it--on the monitor. She feared the answer to the question she asked in a small voice.

"Rhadamanthus, why are my words on the screen?"

"You turned on the Speech-Text program, Aeacus."

"Yes, I'm aware of that... ... That's not... sending to Sentry, is it?"

"The Speech-Text program sends spoken input into-"

She paled, "Oh my _God_--Minos, _turn it off_!"

* * *

Like any other normal day at the Sentry, colleagues were sitting down at their com stations, muttering back and forth to each other in a computer jargon that most people didn't understand. They went about their first priority, finding the person or persons responsible for stealing millions from the Aquilan Banking Trust, and no one noticed anything awry until the yellow caution lights turned on. Everyone began scrambling about once more...

'_This is becoming a bad habit,_' Lt. Gen. Greco thought, shaking his head.

No attack came, but a familiar text box appeared rather suddenly on the main screen, but the words made no sense.

#Could you turn that down?#

#Jack. I can't think with that racket.#

#They're screaming bloody murder into your ear.#

#Can't you listen to someone you can understand, like Metallica?#

"Sir... I don't think this transmission is intentional," said Stansfield, a man who had sat next to Torvald.

The Lieutenant General looked toward the man, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yes, Stansfield, I gathered that much."

"Sir, nothing we're trying is working--we're just running into a wall..."

"I think it's safe to assume that this is Cerberus," he replied.

Antony's eyes were drawn to the empty seat next to Stansfield. Goddamnit, of all the people--why Torvald? They might have had a chance with him; Mjollnir was practically a computer genius savant. The man just couldn't resist coms; he knew the feeling--all that information at your fingertips... But to be one of the Riddlers, for God's sake!

#Metallica. It was a band that used actual instruments instead of synthesizers, and they were a large backbone of the rise of metal music.#

#They've been dead for a while, Jack.#

Did it actually matter, though? He knew that Torvald made up for his past... indiscretions... twice over, maybe thrice over. But the man was currently on suspension, under close watch, while awaiting his review before a panel. No one here had his kind of expertise and Cerberus had thoroughly frustrated the former-hacker. They didn't stand a chance; even when Cerberus was unaware, they kept themselves protected enough to hold a conversation while sitting in their hub...

Someone stifled a chuckle behind a cough, but he caught it. Antony glared at them. What the fuck was so funny? He looked up at the main screen.

#Because most bands with a pulse can't carry a beat, today.#

He raised a brow. Why the Hell was Cerberus arguing music with someone--someone named Jack?

#Look, I'm trying to open a dialogue with the Sentry and they're such moral high-grounders that it takes all my patience to work with them. Your music distracts me. I need...#

There was a rather long pause in the dialogue on the screen and he frowned. He _hated_ not knowing what was going on. What must be happening on the other side of this forced connection?

#Rhadamanthus, why are my words on the screen?#

#Yes, I'm aware of that. That's not sending to Sentry, is it?#

#Oh my God, Minos, turn it off.#

The yellow caution lights went out, returning the semi-circle room back to regular ambience. Antony sighed and shook his head. Well, they had a random first name, 'Jack,' and they knew that Cerberus listened to Metallica at least occasionally. Beyond that, this _session_ of panic completely and totally failed to make any sort of progress.

* * *

Rachel stood with her face in her palms. She groaned.

"I cannot believe that just happened... I must be the laughing stock of the Sentry, by now."

"Uh... sorry?" Jack ventured.

"It's not your fault. I just can't afford to look incompetent to these people. They are not only the largest anti-cryptoterrorist organization the Alliance has, but C4sper is there--he was a _Riddler_! He's the only one there I could possibly respect and the only one that poses a threat to us.

"There's a careful balance here--I need them as allies, but at the same time, we're also rivals. I can't afford to make any errors. The smallest mistake on my part could bring everything I've worked for crashing down around me."

Jack took that in, but wasn't about to let the other girl fret herself into a useless state.

"Hey... just calm down. Take a breather, sort yourself out, and come back to it. They're not going anywhere. Look at it this way--you just hacked into the number one hacker-prevention system to carry out an idle conversation. If they take you lightly, they have to be pretty fucking stupid."

"...I hadn't really thought about it that way. Huhn... I'll try again in an hour or so."

Rachel spent an hour working at her calculus, and finished earlier than expected. She still didn't feel ready to try the Sentry again. Instead, she turned to her com and opened up a new document.

* * *

Cassie saw Zimmy coming out from the school. They hadn't let her into the school and she really needed to talk to the coach. She didn't have the teacher's address, so there was no telling where the woman lived. The blonde glanced to the com-pad in her hand, the message still on it.

"Mrs. Zimmerman," she called out, gaining the coach's attention.

When the woman had come over, Cassandra moved away from the school a bit, explaining there was something she would want to see, her gym teacher was understandably curious. As soon as they rounded a corner and were out of sight from the Helion Guard buzzing about the school, she turned around.

"Look at this..."

Alexis took the com-pad, reading the message dated yesterday, at 12:37.

* * *

_Dear Cassandra Demetrios,_

_ My name is Chelsey Rileigh, Rachel's older sister. I never got to meet you, but I've heard a lot about you from her. I've been continuing my education at a college with our cousin in Spartus 7. I couldn't get through to my mother, and was hoping you could give her my condolences. We are both very worried and wish we could be there. I couldn't afford to make it home during the family emergency when I heard, since making it from Sparta requires cryo and is a few months' travel._

_ When I heard that her cousin left Mrs. Zimmerman's fifth period, I was very concerned. I know that isn't like her. I'll try to book a ship there, as soon as I can. Also, I will try to contact my mother again soon, I would appreciate it if you could tell her that I'll be there as soon as possible._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Chelsey Rileigh_

* * *

Alexis blinked and looked at Cassandra strangely.

"Rachel doesn't _have_ a sister, Mrs. Zimmerman... and even if she did, how could she have known what happened--even the exact period--less than an hour after it happened?"

"So Rachel's trying to make contact. She could be in danger."

Cassie shook her head, "I don't think so..."

Zimmy frowned at the blonde girl, "Cassandra, she's probably left the planet--with... with 'Jack' and _Riddick_!"

"I suspected that. And if that's the case, then she's probably as safe as she could be. I mean, if there were a bunch of goons like there were yesterday... I would wanna find the biggest, baddest person around and put myself as close to them as possible. And that'd be-"

"Riddick," Zimmy finished.

"I know he's... y'know--a _killer_, but since he came back into Audrey's life, she's been so happy," she paused, thinking for a couple seconds, "I don't think he's dangerous if people would just leave him alone."

"That's exactly why I'm worried, Cassandra. Those 'goons' were mercs; it's their _job_ to hunt people like Riddick. They're not going to leave him alone, and Rachel--and Jack--are with him."

Cassie took a moment to digest that.

"...So what do we do?"

"Well, the message said that she couldn't be here; it's obvious why. She also said that she'd come here when she could. That means she intends to return--that's reassuring, at least... she just doesn't know when."

"So what's the significance of her 'cousin' she 'went to college with,' and of Spartus 7?"

Zimmy shrugged and started walking toward the public service district, "I don't know, really. We'll have to do some research. Some of it could be fluff--we'll have to figure out what's important and what needs to be ciphered out."

Cassandra sighed, "Rachel's good at this sort of thing, not me... I only passed Cultures II last year with her help."

"We'll manage. Right now, we need to talk to those mercs. Four were verified at the school--but there might have been others--and only two are alive. I'll find out where they're being kept. If they were tracking Riddick, then maybe they can help us find out where he might go next."

"Why would they cooperate with us?" asked Cassie.

"They'll cooperate," Zimmy said unequivocally, "If they want to stay out of slam, where every inmate and con will be out for their blood... they'll cooperate."

* * *

Around the fifteenth hour, Rachel decided her ego's bruising had healed enough to attempt another conversation with the Sentry. With a centering exhale, she let her mind slowly take in the com's screen... by the time she put on the headset, she was Aeacus, hacker extraordinaire.

"Run the V-ID Mirror program and turn on Speech-Text. ... Amend second command: turn Speech-Text on and off by pressing the headset's microphone button. And make that the default setting for Speech-Text.

"We're making another run on the Sentry, boys. Let's move up to their vanguard. Ping their V-ID; I want them to know we're here."

* * *

At Sentry, the caution lights remained at rest. However, the people were still scrambling.

"Sir," said Stansfield, "All the coms' V-IDs were simultaneously pinged. That shouldn't even happen, the V-IDs are protected by a firewall. Sir, there's also an incoming transmission; it could be an attempted hack to insert some malware..."

"I don't think so... it's too obvious. Someone's knocking at our door. I'd wager it's our new acquaintance, Cerberus. Accept the transmission, I want to know what this is all about."

Doubtful, but unwilling to disobey Greco, Stansfield allowed the message to transmit, "Relaying incoming transmission."

#Private Discussion Channel: 3K9-DoDSS. 15:05 Standard Time. Be punctual.

-_A of C_#

"Well," Antony said, "at least it's an improvement over sitting on our hub."

The Lt. Gen. sat down at one of the consoles and opened a secure link (he mentally scoffed at the paradox of a 'secure link') to PDC: 3K9-DoDSS. He didn't know what Cerberus had for them, but it was usually worthwhile; they had never come to them empty-handed. Although the answers and information they received often left them with more questions than answers, not one encounter had left Sentry with less than they started with... This beneficial activity was curious, considering the animosity between Sentry and hackers in general.

He entered the private chat room and looked to the roster. His com was listed as 'SentryCom02.' Also in the room were 'Minos,' 'Aeacus,' and 'Rhadamanthus'. The lieutenant glanced at the clock. 15:03 Standard. Best at least make a good impression--so far, Sentry had a turnout of making an ass of itself in front of Cerberus. The only point at which Cerberus seemed remotely human was the one mistake it had made two hours prior... which only served to highlight how powerless they were to stop the hackers, when they held a conversation with someone while nonchalantly sitting pretty in their system.

#SentryCom02: Aeacus?#

#Aeacus: Hello... C4sper?#

Shit. Antony rubbed his forehead. They were going to be pissed when he had to break this to them.

#SentryCom02: It's Lt. Gen. Greco. I sincerely regret to tell you that the DoD has placed Colonel Mjollnir under suspension pending investigation. It may be of no consolation, but several of the Sentry Sector--including myself--went on the record as objecting to this plan of action.#

There was a silence. Suddenly, an angry, terse response came--likely involuntary. From what he gathered, Aeacus used a speech-to-text program at least some of the time, which explained how they managed to 'overhear' her (if Torvald's supposition of her gender as correct) conversation with this... 'Jack.'

#Aeacus: Those bastards!#

The line was silent again for nearly five minutes, during which he presumed Aeacus to be raging and venting. He had when he'd gone home after the Department of Defense's Internal Affairs had taken custody of Torvald.

#Aeacus: Tell the suits that we've vital, time-sensitive information regarding the robbery of the Aquilan Banking Trust. If they want to see that money back where it belongs, we can help put every UD back in its rightful account... but we will _only_ facilitate this restoration as well as the apprehension of those responsible by interfacing with C4sper and C4sper alone! You have half an hour to negotiate with the fools. Our price for the information we hold is that charges against C4sper be dropped, and that our information be given to C4sper--not one of the suits.

#Aeacus: If they refuse, we will use our own methods for taking care of the problem. And the result will be a very public and very high-profile.#

#--Minos has left PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

#--Aeacus has left PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

#--Rhadamanthus has left PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

"Fuck," Antony growled. "Get me the Secretary of Defense. _Now_!"

* * *

Torvald walked back into the half-circle room in a state or surrealism. He never thought to step foot in this chamber again. The two men in suits from Internal Affairs were on either side of his shoulders, just behind him. Torvald had a rather large personal bubble and they were invading it. He grit his teeth--so far, he'd been told he was to follow directions and not ask questions. He liked that even less than the invasion of his personal space, but they had him at a disadvantage.

He was escorted to his com, still vacant and exactly as he had left it. Antony was looking at him with something akin to relief. At least he hadn't lost Tony's vote of confidence. He'd heard about the Sentry Sector's opposition going on the record; he was touched, really. Sentry was like a family, even if none of them knew about his past, they hadn't just given up on him.

"Sign in to this public discussion channel. If you do anything unauthorized, we've orders to shut your com down immediately and incarcerate you until your trial," said one of the suits.

He took a moment to configure his com station's title from 'SentryCom48' to 'C4sper' and logged into the room. It was mostly just to spite I.A., because it was against unspoken policy to change your station title since it identified it as government property. Against unspoken policy, no one had ever done it--so Sentry never told anyone not to do it or change it back.

"...Okay... now what?"

"Sit and be quiet."

He muttered under his breath about governmental robots and ignored their glares. At promptly 15:40, the PDC Host announced three arrivals.

#--Minos has entered PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

#--Aeacus has entered PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

#--Rhadamanthus has entered PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

#Aeacus: C4sper... I was worried you were absorbing an excessive amount of bogons.#

"Heh," Torvald quickly covered his chuckle with a cough, "ahem..."

#C4sper: I've enough cluons to counter _twice_ the bogosity produced by suits.#

#Aeacus: _Really_? Twice the bogosity. You must be very intelligent.#

#C4sper: Maybe. A thick head helps.#

#Aeacus: Then... maybe I could ask you a riddle?#

Torvald couldn't help but grin. It was like being back with Sphinx and HiddEnigma. They'd gather about once a week to throw out riddles for a few hours before settling down for what Sphinx called business. Sphinx would request some _odd_ intel from some very strange places... sometimes some very secure places. No one ever figured out what he was doing with all that information, at least, not before he left them to join Sentry...

#C4sper: Okay, shoot.#

There was a pause.

#Aeacus: A dozen Royals gathered round

#Aeacus: Entertained by two who clowned

#Aeacus: Each King there had servants ten

#Aeacus: Though none of them were also men

#Aeacus: The lowest servant sometimes might

#Aeacus: Defeat the King in a fair fight

#Aeacus: A weapon stout, a priceless jewel

#Aeacus: The beat of life, a farmer's tool

#Aeacus: What am I?#

As the lines of text filled the screen, he was already thinking.

#C4sper: ... That's very good.#

"Hm..."

"Mjollnir, you're wasting time," said one of the suits.

"You're invading my space... I can't think when you're invading my space. Move back or this friendly conversation is over. I don't know what Cerberus has that you want, but if you don't let me do my thing, you'll never get it."

The suits glanced at each other.

"I said... you're invading my space. Stop crowding me."

The men finally took one and a half cautious steps backward.

#C4sper: At least part of this riddle is math. 12 royals, Kings with ten servants each. And talks of fights and clowning would probably mean a game of some sort. The rest is just helping hints. Whatever it is, it's a rather large number--depending on the number of Kings in the royals... anywhere from 2 to 12. That means 32 to 132... but that doesn't match much with the rest of the hints. Neither does 3 Kings... but 4 Kings equals 40 servants. So 40 servants and 12 Royals is 52... And 52 is the number of cards in a deck during most card games.#

#Aeacus: ... You're good. So you've figured it out?#

#C4sper: I think so. It's a deck of cards. The royals are the Jacks, Queens, and Kings. The number cards aren't face cards... they're not men. That would make the weapon a club, the jewel a diamond, the beat of life a heart, and the farmer tool a spade. Aces, ones--the lowest card--often beat Kings in plenty of card games.

#C4sper: It's an old-world riddle, as things like that were more common back on Old Earth--spades, clubs, royals... If you think too modern, you mislead yourself with modern games. Not that cards will likely ever go out of style...#

Suddenly, Cerberus put his vanguard under siege and queried his V-ID several times in a row. Torvald swore darkly and his hands flew over the keyboard, repelled the attempted vanguard breach, and managed to loop the queries back on themselves. The queries would devour resources on Cerberus' com as long as they tried to query him. With that, he tried to slip by their vanguard, only to hit a vicious wall--like a mirror. Every query he made reflected his own V-ID and every channel of the vanguard he tried to access re-routed him to his own system--just like last time. Damn, but he would have to learn how they did that! Cerberus' queries and attack upon his vanguard suddenly stopped.

#Aeacus: Well, that settles it. You're either C4sper, or you're a very, very good imposter...

#Aeacus: We need your help... You've access to resources we do not. Sentry has files and the means to physically confront the stupid pups that stole our alias. We have their V-ID and a system. We downloaded their com contents yesterday for you to review; we have also monitored them over the past few days and made a report of their activities. If you wish, I can send these to you now.

#Aeacus: There is, however, one condition. If you publicly take these hackers down... we want you to expose them as the imposters they are--we want our name removed from the entire Aquilan Banking Trust incident.#

#C4sper: If it comes to publicity, we won't leave your alias marred, I assure you. We would look pretty incompetent if we didn't. I'll relay your offer...#

Torvald leaned back, put his hands behind his head, and glanced toward Tony. He gave a half-smile that was full of deadpan sarcasm, "Well, do we want to close that Aquilan Banking Trust case or should we let Cerberus handle it?"

"Wait just a minute, you can't trust anything Cerberus sends--it could be falsified or even viral," said the suit to his right.

Torvald sat up and folded his arm, turning his chair to face the man, "What do you know about hackers?"

"Th-"

"Jack_shit_. Hackers have their own society, and there are rules--ethics--that we must adhere to in order to survive in that society. There are three major points that allow me to trust anything and everything Cerberus tells me, as a fellow hacker..."

He paused for a moment, reflecting that he had officially acknowledged himself once again as a hacker. Well... hadn't Aeacus said, '_Once a hacker, always a hacker_'? He blinked away the thought and continued.

"Hackers have no need for lies among each other. The first of the ethics I'm following is that a hacker will do no harm. Thus, Cerberus will not send a virus. The second ethic that I'm following is that hackers share information, because information wants to be free. The last ethic is for self-defense; by coming to us requesting our aid to clear their name, Cerberus is defending itself against someone who stole their alias. A hacker's alias is sacrosanct... one does _not_ take another's alias just to throw off suspicion. That's just asking for trouble: like the trouble Cerberus is helping us bring to these blackhats.

"You've no _fucking_ idea who or what we are. You go around waving your badge like a banner of blind altruism. I've been marching under that banner for a while and I don't mind saying that you guys miss a whole hell of a lot that happens when you refuse to see the full picture."

He felt... strangely liberated. This was C4sper speaking... Torvald be damned, these suits couldn't take away his identity or open mind. If he had to use some less-than-scrupulous means to fight the good fight... so be it.

"Accept the offer," Antony said calmly.

The Internal Affairs agent spoke up again, "I must object-"

"Then make an official objection--I'll let you know where you can put it," responded the Lieutenant General.

#C4sper: My apologies for the wait; please do send your information.#

#Aeacus: Nothing to apologize for, I thought it might take a bit. You were actually quicker than I anticipated. Why can't Alliance Congressional Senate work this quick?#

#C4sper: I don't think it wise to answer that question among my current affiliates...#

#Aeacus: I suppose you're right. Can't have all the intelligence in the DoD disappearing for having an opinion.#

#C4sper: Aeacus...#

#Aeacus: Right, sending the data package. :P#

"Information packet inbound; granting permission," said Torvald.

The transfer took about six minutes; the com contents, Cerberus' report, and the gathered research altogether. Once it had finished, Aeacus began conversation again.

#Aeacus: This will be enough to get them, won't it? You can clear us with this?#

#C4sper: We'll have to review it, but it should be.#

#Aeacus: We'll be monitoring them until then. If there are any sudden changes, we will notify you immediately. And I'll check back with you in a little; if the DoD doesn't drop the charges against you...#

An open-ended threat was practically worse than a specific one, considering Cerberus' capabilities. Torvald chose not to respond to that, as it would likely exacerbate the situation.

#C4sper: If all goes well, you might see something on the news...#

#Aeacus: Thank you. We'll be in touch, C4sper.#

#--Minos has left PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

#--Aeacus has left PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

#--Rhadamanthus has left PDC: 3K9-DoDSS--#

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Holy Hell! I've been having the luck of a man standing in front of tracks with a train full of black cats crossing. Between classes, computer issues, and F F .net bugs, I've been able to do precious little. But _finally_ it's here! I already have 5 pages of Chapter 12 done at the time of this author's note's writing.

Also, I expect to get my laptop back in less than a week. If that's the case, I'll be able to write even while I'm at college. Yes, imagine my jubilance! ... I really just used the word jubilance, didn't I? Whatever, I'm gonna be ecstatic, obviously.

Well! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I told ya we'd hear from Tony and C4sper again. Their role is not yet fulfilled; and you didn't think I'd let C4sper hang out to dry, did you? ... _Did you_? XP

Secondly, there was comment from Saismaat about this being sweet for its title. Well, the meaning is dual. This isn't a darkfic by nature, but our little happy moments are about to become fewer and farther between. Also, the title was meant in a more literal sense, but you'll have to wait 'til Chapter 12 or 13 to start guessing (it won't be too hard to grasp) the meaning of the title.

I _did_ say that this was TCoR my way... but it's not a departure. We will be visiting the settings and circumstances seen in TCoR--including Crematoria and the Necromongers. Perhaps not by the same theme, but rest assured I'm not just ditching the movie's storyline.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	12. 12: Mind the Chimera

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 12: Mind the Chimera_

Jack sighed as she finished her homework. It was only the seventeenth hour. After haphazardly tossing the com-pad on her nightstand, she laid back on her bed. Idly, she snagged one of the sister blades from under her pillow and began toying with it. There was still almost three hours before dinner... She hadn't really taken the time to think about her situation--her preferred situation. Ever since she was twelve, this what she'd wanted... but now that she was here, she didn't know what to do with herself.

Whenever she got a free moment, her thoughts would turn to Riddick almost compulsively. She couldn't get him out of her head and, worse, she didn't even know where the thoughts were going half the time. Sometimes she was angry she didn't get this chance sooner in life. Other times she was almost to the point of giggling madly over the whole 'I'm with Riddick, now!' situation. But Jacks didn't giggle madly. No, they just lay in bed with confusing cycles of emotions that left them feeling exhausted.

"Fuck, I need a hobby..."

Pondering all things Riddick did _not_ count as a hobby, she thought to herself.

Jack needed something to clear her head, help her drive away the thoughts of Riddick, which usually wound up taking a wrong-turn into the lascivious. Yes, definitely time to clear her head. She meandered the ship, avoiding Riddick as best she could as he puttered about doing whatever it was Riddick did when he wasn't in the cockpit. That seemed to consist of reading a com-pad while wandering the corridors... which might explain why she was having a hard time avoiding him.

She wound up in the workout room. Walking over to the weapons locker, she pulled out a familiar weapon--one she hadn't touched in five years. It was triangular at the handle and guard, tapering into a single, short-barrel assault rifle. There was a hollow shaft right through the middle of it... She reached into the weapons locker again and pulled out a machete, which she slid into the rear of the rifle until the blade protruded almost a foot and a half beyond the muzzle of the rifle. Even this gun seemed linked to him.

_ Darkness. His voice._

_ 'When we meet again, I'm gonna bury this... in your eye.'_

_ ..._

_ The lights go out as the man cuts the cable with his machete. Darkness again. A crack of glass, followed by a sickly squishy sound. A scream._

_ 'Told you that was coming...'_

"I'm not going to think about him," she growled to herself, trying to banish the memory.

She reached beside the weapons locker and activated a small, wall-mounted com unit. Projectors fitted on the upper corners of the room hummed to life. She pulled the link-up card from the com and plugged it into the slot in the side of the weapon.

#Welcome to V-Arms Training System, Deluxe Edition. This program brought to you by Company. Please stand by...#

#Checking Clip. Empty.#

#Checking Chamber. Empty.#

#Checking Safety. On.#

#Please select mode:

#1) Stationary

#2) Point-to-Point Mobile

#3) Free-Roaming Mobile#

She chose point-to-point. The projectors made a red circle onto the floor, about two feet in radius. She stepped inside it.

#Please set minimum target distance.#

"Ten meters."

#Please set maximum target distance.#

"Fifty meters."

#Please calibrate firearm.#

A large blue-and-white bull's-eye appeared on the far wall. Jack pointed the weapon at it and a small red dot appeared on the far wall. She pulled the trigger once she was dead center on the bull's-eye. The target moved to the left side of the wall, then right, back to center, up, down, and center again. Nothing seemed to need adjustment.

The gun thumped back, even though the chamber had no bullets--the simulator gave proper feel to firing, though there was no bang accompanying it. Jack set the program to run for half an hour with continuous targets set to increase in difficulty as time progressed.

#Program ready.#

"Begin."

The com pulled up a random street. A couple of hover-cars, four alleys, and a dumpster filled the streets. The buildings had plenty of windows. Good cover, lots of places for targets to appear... The red position spot she stood upon blinked and a tone sounded. Another tone, the light went yellow. A longer, higher pitched tone and the light went green. For a scant few seconds, nothing happened. Then a silhouette of a person moved out from behind the dumpster.

Jack immersed herself in the firing range program. New position dots appeared green on the floor, her current dot turned red. She moved from point to point, the projected image of the street changed perspective as she moved to each spot. Sometimes it placed her under cover and the com used her gun's targeting reticule as viewpoint, enabling her to "look" about the virtual scene and, in the case of cover, lean out.

When the last silhouette fell, a tone sounded followed by the standard, female voice.

#Program complete.#

"Wow."

Jack jumped, spinning with the gun to face the workout room's door. Almost immediately, she aimed it toward the ground.

"Shit! Don't _do_ that!"

"Sorry," Rachel said, moving into the room, "I just didn't know there was something like this on the com. I'll have to look through it more closely sometime. ... Anyway, what are you doing down here at this time? I thought you usually worked out in the morning and after dinner."

"I do, I just... needed to clear my head," Jack said, "Too much thinking, not enough acting, y'know?"

"Mm. All work and no play..."

"Yeah."

"Mind if I try?"

Jack looked at her quizzically. She was sure Rachel had never held a gun, much less fired one. But she figured now was as good a time to learn as any. The street rat just hoped that the recoil didn't knock the short redhead on her back.

Thirty minutes passed.

"Holy shit. ... _Ho-ly shit_! Where the Hell did you learn to do that?"

Rachel blushed, "I just, um, play a lot of video games... My arm hurts a bit from the recoil, but everything else is pretty much like the FPS games I've played."

Jack continued to stare.

* * *

Rachel sat contemplatively at her com after she showed Jack the games and her top-five place in several FPS games. Jack was impressed by her position as the Guild Leader of one of them, called _Operation: Overkill_, with an impressive score of 133 Consecutive Frags (the current record) in a single Massive Multiplayer Free-for-all instance.

Now, however, something bothered her. It niggled at the back of her skull, as though trying to claw its way to the forefront. Finally, she opened up her report to Sentry and read it, trying to use the information as kindling to the spark of thought. Something about the money was strange to her. She looked back through the imposter's copied com image. Nothing... Nothing... Nothing... Wait a minute!

She accessed the previous files--she knew the blackhats had had stolen UDs from other sites. They even logged it on their com for some reason, likely to keep track of whom they'd hit and when they could hit again. Unfortunately, it also allowed her to track their criminal history backward. It went back several years.

"Several years... Millions of UDs," she whispered to herself.

She opened up the bank record history she had... borrowed... from the ULTrust bank. She glanced through all the deposits... and frowned. There were _hundreds_ of millions of UDs over the years. Deposits and deposits of insane amounts that boggled her mind with all the zeroes. But there hadn't been more than a couple thousand UDs when she first found the account. Rachel checked the withdrawals and confirmed her suspicions. They withdrew the money like clockwork four months after each deposit, every time in a set amount.

"Why?"

The blackhats couldn't possibly have spent it all; they'd be under suspicion in a blink by... well... everyone. So who had the money--did the blackhats have it stashed somewhere?--and what, if anything, was being done with it? Rachel blinked, reflecting on these questions to herself. This was important. Sentry needed to know about this. But she didn't feel like opening this can of worms in front of them...

'_Maybe I'll just drop it at their doorstep._'

She navigated the networks to Sentry's location.

'_Yeah..._'

And with that, she began composing a short, to-the-point message. She slipped under their firewall and pinged their coms. Then she dropped the small, text-packet in one of their incoming channels. Their coms would hold it and notify the users. If they were extremely paranoid, they could open a quarantine area and view it there.

She closed out of her connection and made her way to the galley. She couldn't figure it. It was their problem, now. It was time for dinner.

* * *

#We noticed something strange in the information packet we sent you. The account used by the imposters was mostly empty, with only a few thousand UDs in it before the robbery.

#If you will refer to my report and analyze the image of their com, you can see the documentation of other thefts. There were 12 instances of UD transfers to that same account--millions of UDs.

#So where are these UDs? We are going to look at the account's transaction history; we urge you to do the same through your official channels. Maybe you will find something we missed...

-_A of C_#

* * *

"What are you doing in here, Jack?"

She rolled her eyes, "Lajjun taught me how to make a few easy things, Riddick. I'm not going to blow up the ship."

"Last time-"

"_Or_ make a mess."

"...Fine. Just clean up."

"Yes, Sir, Captain Riddick," she said sarcastically with a mock salute.

Riddick paused, staring at her oddly for a moment.

* * *

_ "Captain," the merc called._

_ Engrossed as he was with planning and integrating the augmentation of the E-TAC soldiers, he didn't hear the man. It was going to be Hell on BGP-4, so they needed to work like a well-oiled machine._

_ "Captain, the guys wanna know if we're moving out soon."_

_ Riddick looked up from the horizontal com-screen with a layout of the planet's geography, troop placements, troop movements, and suspected terrorist locations and targets._

_ "Tell 'em to suit up, now. We'll be leaving within the hour."_

_ "Yes, Sir."_

_ As the mercenary moved out, he turned back to the General._

_ "We need to keep this path clear. My boys will be doing that while the Marines advance along this tunnel. Have the other accesses to that tunnel been blocked up to Way Point 16?"_

_ "Yes, they have."_

_ "Then if you see a single person ahead of you, someone fucked up. Do _not_ move ahead if you encounter anyone. If my boys missed one, they could have missed an entire ambush. Contact us immediately and we'll backtrack to come on the enemy from behind._

_ "If all goes well, we'll hit Way Point 16 and flank 'em before they realize we're there. We've got the artillery to make the initial strike; all we'll need are your coordinates and theirs."_

_ The General nodded, and then looked up at him, "What the Hell are you doing as a Captain? You could out-maneuver your Colonel... why aren't you leading the E-TAC assist?"_

_ "I'm keeping my head down, Sir," Riddick replied._

_ "I don't know why, but I'll respect it. You'd better get geared up, Captain, we'll be planet-side in forty."_

_ "Right."_

* * *

_ They were heading along the path, undetected and unsuspected. His lieutenants were muttering back and forth. They were going to give away their position before long._

_ "_Hey_, you wanna keep us alive by shutting the fuck up?"_

_ "Ain't worried 'bout 'em, Cap. We're safe and sound, and we bag an extra 200K a piece."_

_ Something about the way Lt. Randal that said made the constant wind rolling over the land a little chiller._

_ Riddick pulled up short, turning around, "The fuck are you talkin' about, Randal?"_

_ "We have an... understanding, them Sons of Freedom an' us."_

_ His brown eyes pierced into the ice-blue eyes and mirthless grin._

_ "What did you do?" He advanced on Randal, grabbing him by his gear's shoulder straps and hissed, "What the _fuck_ did you do?"_

_ Guns cocked. He looked at his other three Lieutenants, guns trained on him._

_ "We get the position of the Devil Dogs, forward it to the Sons, and... damn but if I don't get mixed up with all them numbers in coordinates--could get some friendly artillery. Hundred mil--double what we were promised. What'chya say? We walk out of here 200K richer and you just play the good little merc."_

_ "You stupid, little shit! You think they're gonna pay you? The moment you hit, they'll firestorm the entire field!"_

_ Randal sneered, "Who do you think you're talkin' to? I always get my payday--_always_."_

_ A flare of pain in the back of his skull and Riddick's vision went dark._

* * *

_ When he awoke, he was alone._

_ '_Fuckers_!'_

_ He reached for his combat knife and his radio simultaneously._

_ "This is Captain Richards to Base, Richards to Base," he said frantically, ignoring the drilling going on inside his skull._

_ "What the fuck's going on, we're pinned under your artillery!"_

_ "Randal's working for the Sons. Left me somewhere halfway to Way Point 16... They're turning the whole plan backward! Head for Way Point 16."_

_ A moment of silence._

_ "How do we know you're not with them?"_

_ "'cause I'm gonna stop 'em. Semper Fi, General."_

_ "Captain-"_

_ He cut his radio off and ran down the path for Way Point 16._

* * *

_ When Riddick got there, he found the Special Ops platoon of thirty--well, pieces of them--in a crater of artillery. The rest of the General's division was inside the tunnel, probably holed up and ambushed from behind while the artillery barred their way in the front. He was going to rip out Randal's _lungs_._

_ The first day, he went about tracking down and sabotaging the mercenary artillery ships. The second day, he set up anti-personnel mines around the perimeter of their camp. The last day he snuck among the campground, searching for Randal. The man was nowhere to be found. Instead, Riddick punctured the power-cells to all but one of the skiffs and painted the temporary barracks in cell-fuel with a makeshift mop._

_ That night, Riddick took the remaining skiff and threw the throttle to full. The thrusters ignited the cell-fuel and set the barracks on fire. As the men scrambled about in panic, the trails to the other skiffs blazed and, in one bright flare after another, the skiffs' power cells blew. Mercs trying to escape the camp to one of the many tunnels triggered the landmines. Over the course of six hours, Riddick's trap and various fly-by attacks from the skiff's minigun killed four-hundred ninety-eight mercenaries. With his commandeered ship, he managed to make it off planet... The General's division suffered badly, but at least it wasn't a total purge. Shortly afterward, MP Johns was on his tail..._

* * *

When the silence continued, Jack broke it abruptly, "What?"

"...Nothing," he said, moving out of the galley.

She could hear his steps heading into the lounge. The com didn't turn on. She was silent for a few more minutes, listening. He was just in there, doing nothing...

She shook her head, _'O...kay... what the fuck?'_

* * *

Riddick sat down in his recliner and stared at nothing. He never found Randal. But he'd looked for him. Whether or not the Sons of Freedom killed him or if he managed to escape the Sons, the Marines, and himself... Riddick still felt cheated. The image of a crater full of the charred bodies of the Spec Ops platoon remained with him.

"Semper Fi..."

* * *

Dinner was quiet, each of them immersed in their own thoughts. Jack had managed not to turn the kitchen into a replica of a war zone--and the meal was better than average, too. It was a simple meatloaf, biscuits, and vegetable soup, but it was definitely better than rations--and for Jack, that was a vast improvement. Finally, the silence was undone.

"How long are we space-bound... and where are we heading?" Rachel asked.

"We'll be in jump for about four days. Then it'll take us a few hours to navigate the Nemaeus System. It's a large system with about sixteen planets. Kinda densely packed. We're heading toward the inner planets. There's a station here called Daedalus."

Rachel blinked, '_Daedalus, didn't Jack say that's where she ran away to?_'

A quick glance to Jack showed that she was now concentrated on her food, idly pushing it around her place. She was a little _too_ concentrated and was no longer eating.

'_And Jack's not happy about it..._'

Riddick noticed Jack's sudden disinterest in her food and the conversation, as well, but decided not to comment... yet. He would get the story sometime before they hit the station; he'd make damn sure of that.

"After that, we'll head planet-side after-"

Jack stood up, taking her plate to the galley and clearing it of her half-eaten meal. Afterward, she could be heard walking through the lounge and toward the halls--presumably to her room.

Riddick watched her go, silently cursing Jack's obscurity over her past. Nevertheless, he continued, "...planet-side after that for a few days to restock with some essentials and look for a supplier. We get the goods and pick a trade route from there."

Rachel didn't know what it was about Nemaeus, but it was enough to make Jack lose her appetite. She thought it better not to ask and risk either Riddick or Jack becoming angry with her. Still, she could almost feel the tension in the room like a tangible, fourth presence looming in the ship. With four days to go before Daedalus, she hoped the fragile peace on board the _Gift of Nyx_ could hold.

* * *

WEDNESDAY 

The door opened, permitting a man in a laboratory coat to enter; his keycard in one hand and morning coffee in the other. He set his coffee on his desk, shrugged off his lab coat, and hung it up. Beneath he wore a fine business suit, a testimony to his position of power and his paycheck. The room, though subterranean, had all the comforts of his office aboveground. The room was a comfortable, cornflower blue with a deeper, royal blue carpet. Various medical book chips rested on shelves, cabinets full of hardcopy files, and his desk had a full com system wired to their databanks and intranet. The desk was easily as wide as he was tall, made of smooth mahogany with the com set to the recessed docking station, the three nineteen-inch monitors and two six-inch side-panel displays allowed him multiple screens for anything he was doing. Their broad arc of information surrounded him. Anything he wanted to know was at his fingertips.

For this session, however, his purpose was much more mundane, though less stressful. It was time to write the weekly report... And his subject had given him much to write and much to think about this week.

_Weekly Report_

_Week 314:_

_ Specimen 74's accelerated growth rate has slowed down to a rate more or less equivalent to that of Homo sapiens. It was hypothesized that this quick maturation period between infant and adolescent stage to be a natural phenomenon of the species. Perhaps a breeding imperative? Current estimation of the subject's physical age in comparison to Homo sapiens is approximately fifteen years. Real time age is six years and fourteen days._

_ Of note is the lack of menstruation thus far. As the subject has just exited its accelerated growth, observation for any signals of a menstrual period will be put into effect. Hypothesis: perhaps specimen may enter periods of yearly heat, or even require certain stimuli to become a viable breeding specimen. Breeding program has not yet resumed, pending this specimen's evaluation as success or failure._

_ Still no signs of activity involving extra cartilaginous growth on forearms. Judging from the accidents from careless guards who feed the male used as Specimen 74's DNA donor, it is possibly a weapon. I have informed everyone that has any physical contact with Specimen 74 to take all precautions in the event that the specimen learns how to trigger the extra muscles present at the sides of the far distal portion of the radius and ulna of each arm._

_ Lingual lessons are continuing smoothly. The specimen shows extreme adeptness at picking up audible and visual cues. Specimen 74 continues to display some habits particular to its DNA donor; so far, we have been moderately successful understanding its moods and interpreting the threat of volatile outbursts before they occur. Subject continues to show hostility at physical contact, but is often dissuaded from violence in all but the moderate to most invasive physical interactions when given some reading material. Suggest a small com unit with limited data that may be appealing to the subject be placed in subject's room to measure self-motivation, curiosity, and cognitive skills. Reading level is currently equivalent to most junior high school educational standards and the specimen's memory appears to be eidetic. Specimen 74 has repeatedly picked up language patterns used by the other doctors and the guards, causing an almost vexing pattern of scientific terminology and slang to develop in its vocabulary._

_ Specimen 74 lacks focus when not given something particular to fixate its attention. Small noises or motions easily attract its attention during such periods, gaining almost complete focus akin to that of tunnel vision. Signs of mild to moderate sedatephobia are present during partial sense-isolation studies._

_ Thankfully, the specimen still shows no aversion or harm from light. However, the subject continues to thrive superbly in the absence of light. Sight Deprivation study showed no ill effects, if any effect at all, on Specimen 74. Based on the various noises it makes almost constantly and the marked increase of these sounds during the study, the general hypothesis is that the specimen relies on its innate echolocation ability as much as, if not more than, its sense of sight. I curtailed the Hearing Deprivation Study when the subject began striking its deprivation helmet against any available hard surface. Sight and Hearing Deprivation Study has been cancelled._

_ Specimen 74's appetite almost rivals its DNA donor. Its last meal included a pound of roasted ham, two sixteen ounce steaks--cooked medium-well and medium-rare respectively, a cantaloupe, a slice of watermelon, and a small assortment of vegetables. The subject ate medium-rare steak and ignored the medium-well-cooked steak. It took a sizeable bite from the ham (approximately half of the ham). Of the cantaloupe and watermelon, it devoured both in their entirety, as it did with the carrots and tomatoes. It did not touch the potato. A willingness to eat fruits and vegetables suggest that Specimen 74 is not only capable but also keen to eat outside its DNA donor's strict meat diet._

_ Subject will sleep as much as ten to fourteen hours or as little as four hours of a standard thirty-hour day. The specimen shows signs of dreaming during REM. No sleep disorders are apparent._

_ Blood test, urinalysis, and somatography show no abnormalities in physiology. Subject seems to be stable. Monthly tests will continue as scheduled._

_ -Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research_

* * *

Alexis hadn't any luck finding the mercs yesterday... but she had some contacts she could tap for information. Just... not in front of Cassandra. After a few hours, she'd sent Cassandra on her way and gone home to contact her resources. Within an hour, she'd found the hospital and room number. Today... she was going to see those bastards.

She got there around the sixteenth hour. Only one of them was conscious. A woman named Eve Logan. Both of her legs were broken--almost crushed. They had set her legs and put her into a Nano-Med station. While the nanites worked their magic, they patched up the minor scrapes and bruises. She should be out of bed and walking in three or four weeks, with luck.

When Alexis came in, the woman still looked like a wreck, in spite of the hospital's obvious care and treatment. Wan and wiped, Eve looked up. Marks of stress and exhaustion underlined her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in days. Her mood reflected her image.

"Who're you?"

It was more of a 'go away' than a question of identity.

"Lieutenant General Zimmerman," she said authoritatively.

She didn't mention that she was currently teaching high school girls' gym class. Even if it were true, it wasn't as though she was _retired_ from the service... One in her position didn't retire. It was a lifetime commitment. Any day now, she could be recalled and her peaceful life she'd built here would be nothing more than a dream she'd have to wake up from.

"And?"

"About your latest attempt to apprehend Richard B. Riddick-"

Eve huffed, "_That_... was a Grade-A clusterfuck. Shoulda never signed on for it. Assholes had their eyes so full of UDs they couldn't see it."

"Couldn't see what?"

"It was a school--middle of the day, even. All those kids... shit, I've never heard such a reckless plan. And that-" she winced as she inclined the back of the bed, hissing lightly as she had to resituate her legs, "-that fucker, Dahlven..."

'_Ah yes,_' Zimmy remembered, '_the one that held my girls hostage..._'

"I _told_ Toombs... I told him Dahlven was a misogynist. And he _still_ sent him to get the girl."

"We didn't find any Toombs at the scene," Alexis said, mentally cursing, '_There was another one?_'

"Not surprised, that bastard has more lives than a cat... And Chen, here. He's so caught up in the moment he uses a grenade launcher _inside_ the building! Jesus Christ, I've never seen the likes of it. Not even a million UDs is worth this. So Toombs high-tailed it, huh?"

"It certainly appears that way."

"Yeah, well, good riddance to 'im. Need a change of pace, anyhow."

'_Well, isn't this a surprise. A merc with a conscience,_' Zimmy thought.

"So... what happens, now?"

"We have a situation. And I might just be able to keep you out of slam if you cooperate."

Logan looked to contemplate it, but not for long.

"... I'm listening."

"After Riddick left, we found information suggesting that two girls left with him."

"_Two_?"

"One girl, Audrey Knight, is working with Riddick, it seems. The other, Rachel Rileigh, is an unknown--just a student, a friend of Audrey. She doesn't seem to have any connections to Riddick. But as I said, evidence suggests that she left with him. If you could-"

Eve shook her head, "I am _not_ hunting kids. Going after Riddick was a fuck-up, but that's out of the question. I'm not that kind of merc."

"I'm not asking you to hunt anyone, Ms. Logan."

The merc frowned and regarded the Lieutenant General quietly.

"What I want is for you to track Riddick--which will likely lead us to Rachel. If you can do this, I want you to get a message to Rachel. Our goal is to return Rachel to her mother, first and foremost. I need you to verify that she's alive and well... Maybe even give the girl a lift back to Helion. Call it tying up loose ends."

"Yeah... Yeah, that sounds a lot better than I suspected. One problem, though. Riddick's notorious for hating mercs. He's likely to kill me before I get a chance to open any line of communication. How do you propose I go about it without turning this into a suicide mission?"

Alexis shook her head, "We'll work on the particulars once you're recovered. Do we have a deal?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, we do."

When the Lieutenant General left, the merc sagged back into the soft bed. For the first time since the botched mission, she felt relaxed enough to sleep. Eve could still set things right and reconcile this whole ordeal with herself.

* * *

THURSDAY

Jack had been moody all day yesterday and hadn't spoken a word to anyone today. Instead, she sat in her room and worked on her homework. She only emerged for meals and training So far, Riddick discovered training meant 'I'm pissed; let's see if I can pummel Big Evil.' He was still holding back, but not by a large degree. She was certainly giving it her all, she pulled out all the stops and was creating combinations and improvising maneuvers and attacks that he never considered. Hell, he even took a few notes from their latest spar.

She stepped outside his straight right, grabbed his forearm, and heaved backward. Riddick found himself off balance and stumbling forward. She spun as he passed, putting and elbow into his right kidney as he went by. She followed this with a kick to a knee, then a blow (thankfully pulled) to the side of his neck.

"Shit, Jack," he muttered, as he got up, "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"Well, it was a bit harder 'cause I'd planned to have a shiv in my hand when I used something like that."

"How's that?" he asked; honestly intrigued.

One of the few times she would speak to him was during spars. The one time she actually acted like Jack, not some phantom ghosting through the halls.

"Well, if I had a shiv, then instead of an elbow, I would have done a backward stab at the abdominal aorta, then kicked your support leg, and finished by jabbing at the carotid sinus and vagus nerves."

He just stared at her for a second. That was one Hell of a kill...

"Well, seems like a game of Who's the Better Killer, to me."

A small grin--the first positive sign he'd seen in a day and a half--lit her face.

"What'd you have in mind?"

He lunged.

* * *

Jack stood in the shower, letting the warm water flow over her. The water was almost scalding--just shy of being uncomfortable. They were more or less halfway to Daedalus. With every passing hour and every petameter closer to the Station, she could sense an indescribable yet overwhelming feeling of foreboding. She had escaped that damned place once... But this time, she might not be so lucky. Daedalus, which had managed to swallow so many people, would consume her--she could almost see it happening.

From what she remembered, it was bad... but it wasn't a death sentence--not always, at least. _She_ had survived... and made it out, even. And this time, they had UDs. They could escape again no problem. So why was she freaking out so much? What happened on that God-forsaken station that gave her this impression?

When she began combing over the events, she got a headache. A _scary_ headache. Not that it made sense that a headache should frighten her... But she quickly stopped scrutinizing the events, nevertheless.

As she got out of the shower, she threw on a nightshirt and went to bed. Normally, she slept in something that she could get up and run--or fight--at a moment's notice. But she was on a ship and there was no fear of someone slipping into her room in deep space. As she slipped under her royal blue comforter, she slid her hand under her soft pillow. She smiled a bit, feeling the handle of one of her sister blades. As her fingers curled around it, she relaxed fully.

Sure, there wasn't anyone to fear in deep space, but it didn't feel right unless she could feel a shiv under her pillow. Once, back on Chillingsworth's jumper, Imam had asked her to stop sleeping while holding Junner Front's assault rifle, she refused. Imam didn't push it, but didn't approve. That evening, Riddick taught her to make a shiv. That night, she left the rifle in the small lounge. Imam was pleased. When Riddick walked by and saw her slip her shiv under her pillow, he smirked and called it her security blanket. Jack didn't understand. What security did a blanket offer? Whatever it meant, she didn't bother asking.

She still didn't exactly get it, but it didn't matter. It made her feel safer having something to defend herself with at the ready.

* * *

FRIDAY

The ship lurched suddenly. Rachel braced herself with the com console in front of her chair. Jack pitched forward and caught herself on a wall in the hallway. After she had her feet under her, she moved into the lounge, where Rachel was already standing--they both headed toward the cockpit.

When they got there, they discovered Riddick in the pilot's seat, the ship's thruster down totally. They were out of ion drive, basically coasting through frictionless space. He didn't turn around, just stared out at the blackness around them--between systems, it was a very dark place. It was the only darkness his eyes couldn't penetrate.

"What's up? Why are we sitting around in dead space?"

"Couple things I need to know, Jack... before we move on."

"Okay?" Jack said; her suspicious side was making her insides shift a bit in discomfort.

"What kind of trouble am I heading for on Daedalus? You've been tight-lipped 'bout it the whole time and most days I respect your privacy... But I'm not jumping into any pit of snakes."

Even as Riddick asked the question, Rachel could see the tension rising in Jack's neck, shoulders, and back. There was something there, hidden in Jack's past. She knew whatever she had been told about Daedalus Station had been edited to a minimum. So what was so bad that she couldn't even tell Riddick--who, if memory served her correctly, 'survived a rather long night' full of monsters and saved Jack's life? Rachel looked back to Riddick, whose expression was stony.

The brunette's response was flat, almost warning, "Nothing happened."

"I can sit here all night, Jack, but we're not going anywhere 'til I find out what happened in Nemaeus."

He was trying to pull it out. Make it real. She couldn't let that happen--she'd made it go away. Who knew what would happen if it came back? _No_. She wasn't going to remember it! She wasn't, she wasn't, she _wasn't_! It was harder, this time, to make the phantom images shifting around in her brain disappear--more than discomfort; it was actually painful, this time. Jack succeeded, however, and it went away--gone.

She reached up to her head and rubbed her forehead. Riddick was giving her a headache with all these stupid questions.

"It didn't happen. Nothing happened."

Rachel's eyes slammed back to Jack, eyebrows rising. Riddick's brows knit into a deep frown.

"_What_... didn't happen," he demanded more than asked.

Jack winced, both hands going to massage her temples. Fucking headache was killing her. She leaned back against the wall, feeling disoriented.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened, Riddick."

Why was he going on about it? He was the one that chose their destination. Now he doesn't want to go? She wished Riddick would make up his mind. She didn't even _want_ to go to Daedalus in the first place, because... because...

Even a half-formed question of 'why' in her head filled her with a nameless fear, so she quickly dropped it. She didn't even want to go to Daedalus in the first place. Why couldn't he just drop the subject?

"You're blocking, Jack."

"What do you mean?"

Riddick leaned forward, "You're ignoring what happened on Daedalus Station."

Jack shook her head, "No."

"Jack... Tell me what happened."

Rachel watched Jack's inner turmoil play out on her face, the other girl gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. She wasn't sure what to do--didn't know all the particulars about Jack to understand what was happening. What did Riddick mean by 'blocking?'

"_No_. I won't let you do it. I can't..."

She trailed off. Speaking took too much concentration away. It was like trying to hold back a flood. She couldn't stop it--Riddick kept pulling and it took too much to stuff it away repeatedly. She felt a sudden sharp pain in her head, like a thread snapping, and the pounding in her head slowly receded. Then the event was coming back. It was frightening. It was _real_. The images in her head grew larger until they encompassed her; until they were no longer inside her, but _she_ was inside _them_.

She pressed her back against the cool metal of _The Gift of Nyx_, trying to let it cool her down and calm her thoughts. Reality and memory blended.

* * *

_ Backed up against a wall. He stood there, staring at her with a leer that filled her with trepidation. She shuddered as his hands landed on her shoulders. He wanted to-_

* * *

"Oh, God..."

* * *

_ "I knew it. Thought I couldn't see it just 'cause ya cut yer hair 'n' wear them baggy clothes..."_

_ He grabbed her arm and yanked her down the alley--in the opposite direction she'd entered. Farther from safety._

_ '_Ohgodohgodohgod... someone help me _please_!_' she screamed inside her head, but the words caught in her throat._

* * *

As the girl slid down the wall into a fetal position, Rachel took a step forward, "Jack...?"

"Stop it," Jack said, trying to scuttle backward, but unable to go farther against the wall.

Riddick grabbed Rachel's arm and pulled her back.

"Stay back. She could be dangerous, right now."

Rachel was torn, but didn't move back toward Jack, "What's wrong?"

She shouted, "Let me go!"

* * *

_ She yanked back against the large hand holding her. When he turned around to smack her silent, she kicked him in the groin. He fell with a strangled curse and she turned toward the mouth of the alley. Before she could bolt for it, his hand snagged her ankle, pulling her balance off and sending her face-first into the ground. She could taste blood._

_ He dragged her on her stomach back into the alley. His limp made for slower progress, but the journey's conclusion was inevitable. She curled her fingers, trying to dig them into the grimy metal floors. Daedalus was going to swallow her..._

_ She let out a wordless cry._

_ '_Why isn't anyone helping? Where's God when I need 'im?_'_

_ She was inexorably pulled away from the mouth, is dimly lit light slowly becoming smaller. Her hands encountered something not smooth--something not the ground... she snagged it in a death grip, hoping against hope that it attached to something that could anchor her. It wasn't. She looked in her hands._

_ A screwdriver._

_ She cried as she clawed with her other hand, still trying to find purchase. The other vainly clutched at the screwdriver._

_ '_What the fuck are you doing?_' the small voice of reason demanded. '_God ain't gonna save you. You gotta save yourself._'_

* * *

"How?" Jack asked, quivering in her curled position.

"What?" Rachel asked to the odd question.

Jack didn't hear her.

* * *

_ '_The _screwdriver_! Use the screwdriver!_'_

_ Panicked as she was, she took the time to look at her hand, where the screwdriver remained in her clutch._

* * *

"The screwdriver?"

Riddick already didn't like the conclusion he was coming to, but he couldn't do anything about it. As much as he hated it, he had to let this run its course through Jack. And, if she came out of it as sane as she did when he met her, maybe they could work this out... somehow.

* * *

_ '_Yes, you idiot. Stab him!_'_

_ The screwdriver was a rusted flathead, the edges dulled from years of use, but still capable of puncturing flesh._

_'_It's him or you! Kill or be killed!_'_

_ She gripped the tool's handle tighter in her small hand._

* * *

"Him or me..."

* * *

_ '_I choose... _kill_!_'_

_ She curled up and jammed the rusty screwdriver into his thigh, then yanked it out even as he bellowed his pain. Gathering herself, she lunged at him, driving her weapon of salvation into his gut. They fell to the ground together, her body atop his. She pulled it out again, tearing the fabric of his shirt and the skin of his stomach alike. She straddled his stomach. Holding the bloody makeshift shiv overhead in both hands, she plunged it into his chest. Pulled it out. Down again. Again._

* * *

She was in the pilot's chair, straddling Riddick. Her hands fisted and brought down repeatedly at his chest. Surprised as he was, he had caught her in mid-air fast enough to avoid a painful collision. When she straddled him and began slamming her fists at him, he blocked the repeated blows on his forearms.

The pounding stopped, Jack sat panting above him, eyes wide and unseeing. She looked down at herself, grimacing as she pulled at her shirt. One moment it was her typical shirt she wore over her tank top. In the next, it was a tattered, dingy-brown shirt covered in grime and blood from the man in the alley. Jack, well into hyperventilation, slid off and away from Riddick. Her watery, verdant eyes stared down at her hands and found them painted red. She made a distressed noise and stumbled away, down the hall to somewhere. Anywhere but where she was.

Rachel had backed herself against the opposite wall when Jack had sprung. She watched as she attacked Riddick and the resulting panic. Her eyes didn't leave the other girl until she'd passed out of sight.

Riddick sat up--Jack's pounce had reclined the pilot's chair--and slowly stood. His eyes were on the hallway, but Jack didn't return. He could focus on what he'd learned later; right now, he needed to make sure Jack was okay. His first guess took him to Jack's room. There, he found her clothes strewn about--as though she'd more or less tossed off her clothes.

The shower was running; the door to the bathroom cracked a few inches. Steam rolled out from it. He glanced inside, but no one was visible. Cautiously, he pushed the door open. Inside, he found Jack curled up once more, this time in the shower with the water streaming down her. In spite of the warmth he could feel rolling from the shower stall, she sat shivering.

'_She's in shock,_' he realized.

He turned away and saw Rachel standing in the doorway.

"Go get some hot tea and bring it here," he ordered her.

Rachel, in no mind to say no Riddick at this very moment, went to do as he 'asked.' Riddick moved to Jack's bed and pulled the comforter off it. Dragging it into the bathroom, he reached into the shower stall for Jack. He jerked his hand out at the temperature of the water, which felt like it was almost scalding. Jack's skin was turning rosy and, left much longer, she might burn herself. Quickly reaching in to cut off the water, he stepped into the stall and put the thick, warm material over her. Since she was in a corner, it was hard for him to pick her up, but he managed and bundled her into the comforter. He'd just gotten to her bed when Rachel entered the room with the tea.

He silently motioned for her to come in and put it down on the nightstand. It was so quiet in the room that when Jack began speaking, it startled Rachel into almost dropping the tea. She recovered and sat the cup on the nightstand, then turned to listen to the girl.

"I had to do it... He was going to hurt her and I stopped him. I'm _glad_ I did it. But if I stay here, she'll get hurt. They'll all get hurt. They'll hunt us down like fucking _dogs_ and it'll be my fault. ... I can leave. They don't even have to know. I can pick up my pack tonight and be gone before they realize I'm not coming back."

Riddick frowned, realizing she hadn't quite caught up with events. Nevertheless, he played along, "So where'll you go?"

"I dunno," she said, and was quiet for a minute, "I might have enough UDs stashed for a cheap flight. ... Flight listing says the cheapest one's... uh... _Hunter-Gratzner_. It even has cryo. The _HG_'s headed for New Mecca for two-hundred UDs. I only have a hundred 'n' seventy-five. But... I can probably cut a quarter off the price if I get off at the pit stop at Taurus 3. Even pick up a meal with the twenty-five I'll have left."

"Fucking Hell, Jack..." Riddick muttered.

Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire...

Jack yawned, "I'll get up in a couple hours... slip out when everyone's sleeping."

"Sounds good, Jack. Rest up."

Jack passed out in his arms. After depositing her onto the bed, Riddick looked to the tea and frowned. So much for that. Still, it'd be a waste... He grabbed for it and took a sip. ... It was slightly bitter. That chamomile stuff Jack likes. It wasn't horrible, so he took another sip...

"Could be a while before she wakes up."

"...Okay. You'll let me know when she wakes up?" Rachel said, deciding it was best to let Jack get some rest. She didn't know exactly what just happened, but she'd get answers eventually.

"Yeah..."

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly and with a lancing pain that started in her temples and graduated to the base of her skull. Her eyes squeezed shut and she sat there, silently enduring the pain. Finally, she cracked her eyes. Darkness. A small, dim rectangle of light shone across the way, hitting her eyes painfully. Her body seized itself, holding tight in sudden fear.

'_The alley..._'

She hadn't escaped! They had her! She started, not quite managing to sit up fully. She gasped for breath, suddenly hyperventilating.

"Jack..."

The quiet, but deep tone gave her pause. She knew the voice. It was salvation. Jack slowly refocused. That wasn't the mouth of the alley; it was the door to her room. She was on _The Gift of Nyx_. That's right, she was safe; she'd made it. She escaped Daedalus... but she was going back.

She leaned back, relaxing a bit. Turning her head to the side, she saw two, tiny moons beaming at her.

"Riddick... My head hurts."

He wasn't surprised. She just ripped out a piece of memory she'd tucked away. Fucking repressed memories... this was going to be problematic. Riddick knew she needed help to work through all this--but it wasn't as if they could just check her into some shrink... criminal records and all that.

"Just lay there for a bit. I'll be back."

"Hn," she noised, not inclined to disagree.

Riddick moved into the lounge, heading for the medical bay. He saw Rachel sitting at the com, silently engrossed in whatever she was using to pass the time. She was still as a statue. He was halfway to the door when she half-startled him by speaking.

"She's awake?"

He looked over his shoulder and nodded once before continuing into the medical bay.

Rachel stared at the com-pad for a few more moments. She glanced at the heading of the out-dated article she was reading, and then shook her head.

* * *

_RICHARD B. RIDDICK ON THE LOOSE_

_Survived Crash of Hunter-Gratzner_

_ Forensics done by the Newtonian Institute on planet M-344/G, 2 indicate that the serial killer, Richard B. Riddick, survived the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner. The details of the events on the planet are unknown, but authorities are not discarding the theory that Riddick may have slaughtered the remaining survivors._

_ Bounty William J. Johns was transporting Riddick to a triple-maximum security prison when..._

* * *

Never could trust the media. She just couldn't see Riddick killing off all the other survivors. Jack and Mr. Al-Walid were proof against that. How much of this was pure sensationalized bullshit? Rachel could get the story from the source--there was no need to bother with this. Flicking off the com, she went to get more chamomile for Jack. It'd probably help soothe the frayed nerves. Maybe she could get some answers about the events of Daedalus as well as this M-344/G system debacle if she stuck around afterward...

* * *

"Yeah, just a bit... disoriented. It feels weird to have it go the other way."

A moment of silence. Rachel figured it was a non-verbal cue, but Jack had begun speaking when she came in with the cup of tea. This was the third one... at this rate, they'd have to restock when they hit Daedalus.

"I remember stuffing it back; it wasn't hard. Kinda like swallowing a drink. But remembering it feels like it's going the wrong way... I guess sorta like throwing up. Thinking about it feels weird... still makes me dizzy. It's also kinda strange to have something else there that I know happened... when it didn't exist before. Kinda surreal..."

Jack was grateful for the tea and took the two small, red pills laying on the nightstand. She had her pillows stacked behind her, so she was inclined just enough to take the painkillers.

"You feel up to telling me what happened?"

Her hands fisted in the comforter. She took a breath and began talking.

"I got back late from my pulls. It was a slow day and I usually brought a two-hundred UD quota to the gang. An' Jessie and Mike would cover us with an extra four hundred--they covered our living expenses. I pretty much stole so we could eat. Sebastian and Micah were our security. Kiara kinda became everyone's Mom--and everyone looked out for Panny, since she was only five. ... Shit, she's probably eleven, now... same age I was...

"Anyway, I dropped off my stash, took my twenty and went to the vendors on Deck 4. Kiara wanted to share with me--didn't want me to go out again," she said, eyes becoming distant with the memory, "but we both needed a full meal. My stomach'd been aching for a day and a half when I came up short last week. Had to stretch things and the day before, I only took half a meal. Another lights by the vendors had gone out. Or maybe someone broke it. Wouldn't be surprised... shit happens like that all the time. Someday, I bet the whole Station'll be plunged into darkness.

"Got myself some soup... Ate it right there, since I was feelin' kinda weak. Glanced at the clock set above the vendor and realized how late it was--almost twenty-third hour. So I started back, lookin' for the best route. Can't start a routine or someone'll notice. So I had five ways back to the alley an' took a different one every day. Chose the shortest path. I was tired and needed my cot as soon as possible.

"There were four blocks of darkness--newly broken light included. I figured I could manage it; even use the dark to stay hidden. But someone already had that idea. Must've been watchin' for me the second I started headin' that way. The second I crossed that alley, I was being hauled in. Fuck, it felt like I was flyin' 'til I hit the wall of the alley.

"I could hear my heart poundin' in my chest. Was scared shitless. I didn't think it could get worse, but then I saw the tattoo on the side of his neck. He was one of the local gang... they were the big name in drug running, slaving, and murder on Daedalus. I was likely gonna be one of their... _exotic pets_... I had to get out of there. But he was too big and too strong; just started pulling me away farther into the alley.

"I managed to knee his jewels, but that just pissed him off. Then he started draggin' me by the ankle. I couldn't stop him and there was nothin' to grab onto. But I snagged a screwdriver on the ground and... and I... stabbed him.

"Once I started, I just couldn't stop. I kept hitting him with it." She pulled the at the comforter in distress, "I was covered in his blood. It was hitting the walls of the alley, too. He was just... lyin' in this red puddle... and I remember panicking. I dunno what I did after that. I just went on autopilot. When I came to, I was in the shower--fuck if I know how I got past Sebastian. It was his watch and he's always payin' attention..."

"After that, I decided I needed to leave. The gang would eventually find the body and hunt me down. They got everything the guards got through their ties--DNA scanners, they can hack databases... everything. I couldn't stay or the whole crew woulda suffered. Prolly woulda been killed 'cause they knew me. So... so, I grabbed my stuff and ran. Checked the flights and used my stash to nab the cheapest flight.

"...You know how the rest went after that..."

Riddick nodded. Thinking over what she'd told him.

"You're thinkin' the gang'll still be looking for you."

Her turn to nod.

"It's been five years, Jack. Even if they had your DNA, they gotta figure you're long gone. And you don't look anything like you did back then."

"Yeah, but..."

"We'll be fine. We won't even be a week, so we don't even have to see much of Daedalus. It's natural for you to feel nervous, but if we're careful, it'll be in-and-out."

"...Okay."

Her headache was almost gone, now. Save for feeling a little lethargic, everything was fine. Jack sat up, the comforter falling to her waist. The material felt smooth against... _her skin_. She glanced down, then quickly back up. Riddick's reflective, silver eyes had cut to the side, staring most intently at her closet. Yanking the comforter back up, she looked toward the door, where Rachel had lingered. The redhead's eyes were wide and her mouth was open.

"Get out!" she yelled at them, mortified.

Riddick simply rose to his feet and strolled out of the room. He paused just outside and cleared his throat. Rachel started slightly and blushed, then turned for the door and practically fled.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

I actually worked through Chapters 12 and 13 as a single chapter. By the time I realized I was over 20 pages, however, I was in full-throttle writing mode. I decided to break it up, even though it's more or less a consecutive series of events... There's plenty more to what happens at this point in time, but you're getting about 18 pages of the initial idea. So it's not all bad.

Now that I think about it, this is probably the best place to leave off, as the next scene is a nice kick-off for the next arc of the story. Combined with what happens here in 12, chapter 13 will lay down the plot for the next ... I don't know, could be eight to ten chapters.

Also, I've managed to get to a major point in the story... an introduction of sorts. It might be blatantly obvious, or it might be too vague--I can't tell 'cause I know the story already. I love where this will take me and I can't wait to reach that plot point. I can say that this plot point is after Daedalus, but I don't want to spoil anything, so that's all I'll say about it.

If you were wondering what petameter is, it's 1,000,000,000,000,000 meters. I did some math... it's the best figure I could come up with. If you see "petas" being mentioned, it's referencing a petameter measurement. The standard hyperdrive works at 6 petamaters per day or "6Pm/D."

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	13. 13: Bad Dreams and Strange Things

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 13: Bad Dreams and Strange Things_

It was half-past midnight. Jack tossed and turned during the night. Her dreams were full of half-formed images and nightmarish episodes strung together into a slide show of disorientation and fear. She'd no control over it and as soon as one spell ended, another began. Suddenly, she felt as if someone pulled her from stormy waters and hauled her to dry land. In fact, if felt _exactly_ like dry land... including dense foliage. She was more aware, now--understood that this was a dream and she had some marginal control over herself in this scene. That was strange in and of itself.

'_Okay, I _know_ this place. Last time I was here..._'

Jack headed for the light, marching through the thick, dead undergrowth. She neared the edge of the jungle, approaching the light she had seen through the trees and shrubs.

Again, rustle of sound behind her. This time, she wasn't much surprised. Hey, it'd happened once before, right? Turning around, she met the intimidating visage of the large man with blood-red hair in strips running backward... or was it forward? It was hard to tell. He was staring at her with those bright, blue eyes. The man just a tad larger than Riddick, and he positively _radiated_ 'big, evil animal' just like Riddick.

No fucking around this time.

"Who are you?"

He looked up through the canopy, broken in spots to reveal the daylight this close to the edge, where tree-cover was less dense. He seemed to be contemplating something about it.

"There is too little time for introductions... perhaps another day. For now, there are things you must know..."

"Right, you'll have to consult my dream-secretary; my schedule's pretty tight."

He smiled--or smirked--much like Riddick did; a quirk of the lips to one side, a glint of teeth. She blinked and it was gone.

"There is a great darkness coming. You and your companions must be prepared for it. You will find an ally in the darkness, but you must conquer your fears."

"I'm not afraid of the dark," Jack retorted, then mentally added, '_because that's where Riddick is._'

The sky was beginning to darken; the sun was setting. As if to prove her point, Jack turned around and moved out into the waning light beyond the tree line. What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. A cold shiver ran down her spine. She was struck dumb; there were no words for what she was witnessing.

Headstones... row upon row upon row of headstones... Millions, _hundreds_ of millions, of graves marred the landscape. Everywhere she looked beyond the jungle, they _filled_ her sight. The sun finally set and gave way to darkness. A melodic voice pitched up and down, long and traversing several octaves. It trilled in some places, rasped out warbling clicks in others. Jack began to hyperventilate. She knew that sound... and unless she wanted to fill one of these graves, she had to get out of here. The girl stumbled back, only to bump into the ambiguously dogmatic man.

"No. _No_, I got away! He took me away from there! I got-" her throat closed, strangled the rest of the fear-induced babble.

It wasn't right, she thought in a panic, there were no _jungles_ there, it was a barren sand-ball with nothing but a network of caves beneath the surface; caves housing _monsters_.

The large man laid a hand on her shoulder... another Riddick-like mannerism, "Do not be afraid... The ones buried here are long dead; they were not victims of your demons of the dark. This is not the planet of your nightmares."

The whooping and clicking continued. Not a chorus of voices, just one. Jack still shivered.

"H-" her throat had closed on her, and she had to swallow hard to continue, "How do you know about that?"

"There is not enough time to speak of such things."

"Y-You know, for some kinda prophetic vision from my subconscious, you're pretty fuckin' vague," Jack growled, trying to push aside her fear.

"Our time here is done... I will reach for you again. Remember what I said."

She turned around, "Hey, wait a sec! You still haven't explained anything-"

He was gone.

"Goddamnit..."

A rustling and clicking sounded to her right. A light, almost cooing voice sounded from just behind a shrub. Jack's body locked up, her blood turned to ice and her muscles to stone. She let out a terrorized whimper; she was alone in the dark, now...

A crescent shaped head crossed with long stalks on either side poked through the leaves. Its leathery wings arced above and behind his head, along a sinuous trunk. Two, long limbs with talons padded out beyond the bush. Its forked tail swayed back and forth in lazy, cat-like movements. It seemed to regard her silently, and then slowly approached her tremor-ridden body. Four yards away. Three yards. Two.

She _screamed_.

* * *

Before she finished screaming, Riddick was already slamming her door along its tracks and bending over her bed. The moment she felt his hand touch her shoulders, her arms whipped out. Jack latched onto him and pulled herself as close to him as possible. To Riddick, it seemed as if she was trying to crawl inside of him. He tried to disengage her from his tank, but her grip was iron tight and he nearly ripped it trying to pull her off.

Rachel came in and took stock of the situation. Riddick looked supremely uncomfortable as Jack sobbed harshly and loudly against him. Riddick told her to get some tea for Jack--anything to get the girl to calm down. As Rachel moved down the hall, she could still hear the brunette wailing.

Jack was a tough girl. There didn't seem a lot that could scare her. But something had her firmly in the grip of near catatonic terror. Something capable of doing that to Jack... Rachel shuddered.

And this was how their day started.

* * *

SATURDAY

An hour later saw Riddick and Rachel in the galley. Jack was still awake, but remained in her room. He'd wanted to stay a bit longer--just in case... something. But she'd told him she would be fine and lingering would have created an awkward moment.

"Jack hasn't had a nightmare like that in five years," Riddick said lowly, sipping his tea. Half a protein bar laid ignored on the table.

"She's had these types of nightmares before?"

Riddick nodded solemnly.

"What could scare her so bad?"

Just when Rachel thought he wouldn't answer, he spoke, startling her slightly.

"Those fucking monsters. They screwed her up for a while. Wouldn't sleep more than four hours a night and half the time, she woke up screaming. She couldn't even fall asleep unless either Imam or I stayed with her. ... After a run-in with a merc-ship, she got a gun and started sleeping with it. Drove the holy man bugfuck; an' I was a bit worried she'd wake up from a nightmare and pull the trigger--punch a hole in the hull and kill us all or somethin'.

"When we reached Helion Prime... she was fine. All that sunlight, not enough darkness to matter."

"Not enough darkness?" Rachel repeated, perplexed.

"Those things... they couldn't stand the light. Burned 'em up like a pack o' smokes. So as long as we stayed in the light on that planet, we were fine. We figured that'd be easy enough--there were _three suns_. Problem was... we had the fortune of landing when all three suns went into eclipse. Whole planet went dark and those fuckin' hammerheads came out in a feeding frenzy."

"...That's what you meant by a 'long night', right?"

"Yeah. We did some math on it later, when we reached Helion. That system's on a twenty-six year cycle. Woulda been about four years of darkness--happens every twenty-two years."

"Well, if that's true, then the eclipse is over, by now, right? Have you ever thought about going-"

"_No_. There ain't a thing in this whole, wide shit-hole of a universe that could get me back on that planet. That place is as close to Hell as you'll ever find. If you ever get the chance to go there... _don't_."

* * *

No one went back to bed for the remainder of the night. Instead, they got an early start on the day. When Jack came in for breakfast at eighth hour, she looked much better than she had three hours ago. Rachel asked if she wanted to talk about it. The redhead received a shrug, but Jack started talking anyway.

"It was really... odd. I wasn't on that planet. It was that other one--from that dream with the guy," she said and decided to omit that the 'guy' had been in her dream again, "This time, I got out of the jungle and saw a bunch o' graves. Like millions of 'em. It was fuckin' freaky... Then I started hearing one those _things_. One came out of the bushes and started coming after me. I couldn't move; I just... froze, y'know? It was close enough to reach out and touch me--so I started screaming. That's when I woke up..."

Rachel blinked, "So it didn't do anything? It just walked toward you?"

"You don't understand. These things only have two things on their mind--kill and eat. They started eating each other when they couldn't get to us. Fuckers flew over our heads and killed each other. Their blood was rainin' on us and bodies were fallin' outta the sky all over the place the last hour we spent there. I had to climb over a pile of their bodies to get to the skiff..."

Riddick came in from the galley and sat down with his cup of tea, "I saw this one mother... had some o' them little ones on her back, like we found in the coring room..."

Jack blinked, remembering what that flock of tiny, bat-like creatures had done to Ali. She shuddered, remembering helping with the cairn for him... at least he _got_ buried--others weren't so lucky.

"Yeah, well... she couldn't get at Paris when he panicked. ...So she grabbed one of the little ones off her back in her jaws and ate it right there. These things hold nothing sacred; they'll kill and eat anything and anyone. If one of 'em is paying attention to you, it's only because it's trying to figure out the quickest way rip out your insides."

Rachel swallowed her bite of eggs, which had gone tasteless and felt like a lump of ooze sliding down her throat. She was glad she'd cleaned off the majority of her plate--she wasn't hungry anymore...

* * *

Riddick had mentioned that he wanted to teach Rachel some basic self-defense at the very least, mostly because the less he had to haul her ass out of trouble, the less he had to worry about in any given situation. He headed up to the lounge to get her--she always worked out at the ninth hour. That was perfect, as he usually finished morning maintenance around that time.

* * *

_ ... Kera pinned my arms to my side with an unnatural strength, those amber eyes penetrating deep into my soul. The fight finally left me, and my struggles ceased; I replaced my efforts with an angry stare. I couldn't stand for this--_wouldn't_ stand for this!_

_ "How did you get on my ship? And who are you--_what_ are you?"_

_ Kera only grinned._

_ I took stock of my assailant noticed the unnatural aspect of Kera. The female creature seemed Human at first--a striking beauty of a female, at that. Her hair was long and straight, the color of oak that flowed to the middle of her back in a silky river. On either side of the hair was a wing, brown as her hair, and bat-like in structure. Nevertheless, they possessed such absolute femininity that they only enhanced her ethereal beauty._

_ Even so, the wings drove it home that I was not dealing with the average human stow-away. And in deep space, there was no one to help me..._

_ I still needed at least one arm free to fight my way loose, "My ship is coded to recognize my voice. I can send out an emergency distress beacon with a few words. So you'd better let me go!"_

_ All I needed was for the woman to put a hand on my mouth; then I could punch her as hard as possible. Maybe I could knock her out or just daze her enough to get away and send a message to the nearest way station. Kera's expression grew thoughtful for a moment, then changed to pleased realization while those wings--how had I forgotten about the wings?--spread out slightly. I felt my hopes plummet._

_ Kera smiled, "We can't have that now, can we?"_

_ The Succubus leaned down and sealed her..._

* * *

"Hey, Mouse-"

"_Wha-huh_?"

Rachel started to her feet in a panic; the com bounced off the couch and began to fall to the floor. She quickly snatched it from midair and fumbled with the pad, hitting the 'minimize window' key several times in a row to hide the story she'd been reading. Her face bordered on deep crimson. Rachel clutched the com close and hid the screen against her chest.

'_Probably better not to ask,_' Riddick thought.

"Time for that self-defense we've been discussing."

A quick glance to her watch told her that it was, indeed, ninth hour.

"R-right. Just a moment, let me get changed and I'll be right down."

She turned the pad off, tossed it on the couch, and skittered from the room to change into the sweats she wore during workout. Riddick watched her retreat and remained standing in the lounge for a moment. Then he shook his head and followed her into the hall. He passed up the quarters and moved into the workout room.

The workout consisted of him explaining the rules of use and conservation of energy, just as he had with Jack some five years ago. Rachel didn't have the muscle definition yet, but she became fitter with each day she spent in the gym. Eventually, the girl would be able to defend herself if the need arose. The techniques he went through were fairly basic, but they'd work in a pinch. Even though she might not hold her own in a fight as Jack might, she could at least get herself to safety.

And that, he considered, might even be an asset to them. When Jack told him of the mouse's skill with a firearm, he checked her scores on the machine. A score of 1550 out of 1600 on an intermediate level of the V-Arms program made him reconsider a few things. Some fire-support would be helpful when they found themselves outnumbered by a large group of mercs. If she could pick off a few, that would improve their chances of escape several times over. Snipers always inflicted some form of panic; made everyone less gung-ho to move in the open.

But that would take time and training. A V-Arms program wasn't anything like the real thing. Maybe if she kept at it over the next few months she would be useful. He still had a lot of work to do with her...

* * *

They called it quits at half past tenth hour. Rachel groaned in the shower, the temperature of the water turned up to almost beyond her tolerance. As the heat beat down on her burning muscles and bruised skin, she didn't bother moving--not for ten minutes, at least. Riddick had her jumping through the metaphorical hoops. She'd had to stop his 'attacks' and counter them with various techniques he taught her to slow or stop someone--giving her enough time to move away.

Generally, that meant he chased her about the workout room, cornered her, and let her try to defend herself... She rubbed her side, where a Riddick-fist-sized bruise was slowly becoming visible. God, he was going to turn her into pudding if this kept up!

'_It's good motivation not to get hit again,_' he had said.

"Jerk..."

She muttered as she began to scrub herself down--every movement caused a new muscle to ache. She had the crazy notion that she was actually _pushing_ herself during her exercise sessions! Silly her, she scoffed. How did Jack do it?

* * *

Rachel moved slowly back to the lounge. The warm water had relaxed her enough to keep away the worst of the aches. Still, moving in certain positions made her back and legs twinge. She more or less collapsed upon the couch and snatched up her com-pad. She was sore and more than a bit tired. All she wanted to do was curl up with a story and read until lunch, then take a nap until dinner. She'd no idea how she was going to survive if Riddick decided to tutor her for her evening exercise.

The story, she discovered, would have to wait. Her com-pad was blinking a note at her--it was Saturday. That meant she had to turn in their homework. Since Riddick had insisted that they continue their education, even if it happened to be self-taught, she decided that they ought to get credit for it. Although, when she really thought about it, she knew that turning in their homework would seem awfully strange to Lucian's Academy. After all, they weren't _there_. Not just not in class, but not even on the _planet_! Now, their homework was about to be submitted to the instructors' master com.

"Jack..." she called half-heartedly, unwilling to expend the energy to seek out the other girl, "_Jack_... Rhad, can you locate Jack and tell her to come to the lounge... with her homework?"

Rhadamanthus, using the ship's com system to search for another female-shaped biological form, discovered Jack. It initiated the com system in the girl's room.

"Paging Jack. Paging Jack. Would Jack please report to Aeacus in the lounge... with her homework. Repeat: Would-"

"I _heard_ you the first time! Fuck all... Why couldn't Rachel get me herself?"

Jack didn't like Rhadamanthus very much. It had a snide nature--and she wasn't sure how that was possible. It was a fucking program, after all. Hadn't Rachel said it was a learning artificial intelligence? Where the Hell had it learned to be such a pain in the ass while Minos had learned to become some kind of aristocrat?

"Audio analysis indicates stress levels above normal. Maybe Aeacus is resting until her fatigue has abated."

"You're saying she sent you 'cause she's too lazy," Jack deadpanned.

There was a pause--Jack imaged it was a digital shrug--and it answered almost apathetically, "It could be so."

She grumbled and grabbed her com off the nightstand, then made for the lounge.

"Rachel... is there any way to hurt an artificial intelligence?"

The redhead looked up and stared, "Uh, no, I don't think so... Why?"

"Because Rhad is an annoying bastard of a program."

"That is not a polite thing to say. Suggest a course on etiquette," the program interjected.

Jack narrowly avoided cursing at it, "Why does it _do_ that?"

"Calculated comments are issued to discover the most likely response to the stimulus."

Jack turned to glare at the wall-mounted com's camera device.

"...You mean you do it _just_ to get a reaction out of me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

She growled, "Sonuva_bitch_..."

Rachel had closed her eyes in exasperation, "Rhadamanthus, please stop antagonizing Jack. Jack... you _do_ understand that you're arguing with a machine? The reason I asked you to come was so I could get your homework."

"What for?" Jack asked, handing over the com-pad nevertheless.

"I'm going to post it, like we normally would."

"Um... but we're not _there_. How are you gonna turn it in?"

Rachel smiled lightly, "Lucian's Academy has a hub connected to the Network. It's how we can ask our teachers questions from home. All I'm doing is linking to their hub like we normally would. Instead of letting it redirect me to the instructor message boxes, I'm accessing the homework submission directory."

She pressed a few more keys and then linked both of their com-pads to the ship's com. From there, she uploaded the homework files and sent them into the homework submission directory.

"Won't they be, like... a little freaked that our homework's showing up when we're not even on the planet?"

"...Maybe," Rachel said nonchalantly.

Jack stared at her for a moment, and then not so quietly muttered, "Now I know where Rhad gets it."

She watched Rachel zip through various screens, submitting this, checking that, and uploading here and downloading there... A minute of silence passed and the redhead handed back Jack's com.

"There's next week's assignments."

"...sadist..."

As Jack shuffled away, Rachel decided to check the messages for 'Chelsey Rileigh.' It was the best idea she could come up with on short notice. When she checked the in-box, she was disappointed to find it empty--again. The girl had been checking it every day, and she'd keep at it. Sometime they'd have to respond, right?

* * *

Kristen cycled through photos on a digital frame. There was Liam with their eight-year-old daughter; his bright, orange-red hair and her head of scarlet stood out against the blue skies and russet, rocky outcroppings of the Solaris Crystal Caverns. The girl stood atop one of the peaks with both her arms up and out, a broad grin across her face; Liam's hands steadied her while Kristen took the picture.

The woman changed it to another picture, both of them again. Their girl was growing up so fast. At eleven, she had chosen prescription glasses over contacts. Said she felt they made her look more intelligent. And she always had been 'Daddy's little genius.' It was true, she knew--testing had placed her at in a 'profoundly gifted' range. Although their daughter sometimes seemed a little _blank_, emotionally speaking, when she concentrated, she didn't seem to have any major deficits that pointed to her being a savant.

The next picture was of Rachel, alone. At twelve, the smile had left her. The redhead wore an expressionless mask for a face. She was composed and refined to a fault. Stared at the camera from behind her glasses in a manner that wasn't cold, but... detached. For a while, it was as if she was concentrating all the time--her emotions stunted.

Kristen sighed. After Liam had died in that accident at the lab, Rachel had introverted and all of the spontaneity and vivacity had left her. The calm, meek girl left behind still made her proud, but she wished her little girl hadn't turned in on herself like that. Rachel's smiles were never as bright again.

Rachel seemed like the perfect blend of them both. Her stature was shorter than average, which she passed on to her daughter. Her hair was auburn, while Liam's was that Irish orange; it was as though they'd mixed like paint and given their daughter a Venetian red shade. She had her father's grey-blue eyes...

Rachel was all Kristen had left of her husband and it was eating her alive that she had now seemingly lost both of them. But then, she thought as she glanced at the com across the living room, what was she to make of the strange message she had received a few days ago?

She was startled out of her dilemma by a knock on the door. Kristen wasn't expecting anyone... but she went to the door nevertheless. Upon opening the door, she found Cassandra, one of Rachel's friends... and an older woman. She blinked at them.

"...Yes?"

"Mrs. Rileigh... can we talk to you for a bit? This is Mrs. Zimmerman--she's our Phys. Ed. teacher. Rachel left from her class. We have something we think you should see," said Cassie as she held up a com-pad.

"I-" she wasn't feeling much up for visitors, but she supposed it could be important, so she stepped aside and motioned them in, "Please, come in... What do you have?"

"You only have one daughter... which is why I was surprised to get this," Cassandra said, giving the com-pad to Kristen.

"I think your daughter's trying to make contact with us," Zimmy explained, "She mentions trying to contact you, as well. We're going out on a limb and guessing you got a strange message from a 'Chelsey Rileigh,' too."

"I did. I thought it was too convenient... that it was someone's sick joke..."

Cassandra shook her head, "It's too clean for that. How does this person know details they shouldn't--like the exact time of events? And there are obvious references to Audrey and Rick."

"Mrs. Rileigh, can we see the letter that was sent to you?"

Kristen hesitated, and then she sighed, "I suppose. It just made me worry more."

The ex-Marine and schoolgirl moved over to the com with Kristen. They read the short message that Kristen accessed.

* * *

_ Dear Mom, _

_ I'm glad I finally got a hold of you. I tried your com a few days ago, but I couldn't get through. We haven't talked in a while. I'm doing okay in my classes and Spartus 7 is teeming with business opportunities. Between my two new friends and my cousin, I've had a lot of support. My friends aren't exactly friends of the dean, but they know their stuff and I know I can trust them._

_ Ricky is a bit rough around the edges, but I'm learning to get on with him. He's a big guy and he's teaching Jacquelyn and myself how to take care of ourselves. Jacquelyn helps smooth out our problems most of the time... when she's not getting herself into messes. She's a tough girl, though, so I'm not worried. Maybe when things are less hectic, I can introduce them to you. _

_ By the way, I sent a message to one of Rachel's friends... you might have already heard from her. If not, I'll be keeping in contact with her. I think she might be able to tell you more, since she was one of Rachel's close friends. I look forward to hearing from you both and to seeing you when I get to Helion. _

_ I wish I could be there for you right now and I hope Rachel comes home soon. I know it's very odd for her to have just disappeared like that... I'm sure she wouldn't stay away without a reason. I hope she's okay._

_ I couldn't find a means to get back to Helion just yet; I can't afford a spot on a ship with cryo and it's several months from Spartus to Helion. But I'm not giving up; I'll be home as soon as possible. I'll keep in touch and I'll talk to you soon. _

_ Love, _

_ Chelsey_

* * *

"This one even mentions Riddick and Jack," Zimmy said, pointing out the paragraph about 'Ricky' and 'Jacquelyn.' She frowned, "At least it seems that she's in no danger; there are no hints that she's hurt or greatly worried. And from the sounds of it, if and when she comes back... she at least plans on them accompanying her.

"The rest seems about the same as Cassandra's message. I still can't figure out the significance of Spartus 7, though..."

Kristen softly responded, "Spartus University is where Rachel wanted to attend college..."

"I think we should send a response," Cassandra said.

Zimmy countered, "But if we send out something questionable, it will be noticed. If I know the Alliance, then they're passively monitoring your coms for anything suspicious. This isn't odd enough to set off their alarms."

Cassandra sat back and stared at the com as if it held the answer, "Hm..."

* * *

Lunch was a much less stress-filled and tense than it had in the past few days. Today, Rachel had collected their com-pads--including the elusive Riddick com-pad--for a talk after their meal. Jack was testing her cooking skills and had prepared them some spaghetti. Riddick had been doubtful, but it had turned out quite well.

After the table had been cleared, Rachel pulled out the com-pads and handed them to Jack and Riddick. As she spoke, they could tell she had totally immersed herself in the topic, as her voice had gone almost flat and there was a slightly distant look in her eyes.

"This is your new life. This one's yours, Aislin. And yours, Dad. Memorize it--become it. From this point on, we should get in the habit of familiarizing ourselves with ours and each other's names and relations to each other. So start using these names when talking.

"Murdoch Connal, you're the captain of the _Spirit of Langavat_. You're my father and Aislin's uncle. You were most recently a guard for Company shipping lanes. You were married, but your wife, Elspeth, died in an accident. Your eyes were damaged in the accident, but surgery gave you back partial sight. To support both Aislin and I, you struck up a contract with Company to put us through school. You've just finished your contract and picked us up. We're home schooling for our final year of high school while we strike out on our own business ventures as a sort of internship. We're your junior partners in the business. You ship just about any kind of cargo that needs shipping. You're a respectable businessman--I've made sure of that in our business logs. You have business with Vec-Corp shipping their supplies from Vectran manufacturing plants. You also have a good record shipping medical supplies to various hospital distributors from Nano-Med, Inc.

"Aislin Connal, you're my cousin. Murdoch was signed as your guardian since you lost your parents when you were ten. You're an only child and you're going for your piloting license after graduation. For your 'internship,' you work negotiations and prepare the deals with the companies that have business with us."

"I'm Morrigan Connal. I'm the only daughter of Murdoch. I'm allergic to shellfish... which is why I rarely eat seafood. I'm planning to go to college and get a career in Com Technologies--specializing in security and troubleshooting. I haven't decided where I want to go, yet... I want to check out Spartus U, though. For my 'internship,' I take care of the paper-trails and inventory; banking, tax and insurance information; and our stock investments."

"There are more details about each other on the list. You don't have to memorize those--they're just extra things to help. All of us are registered; we have medical, insurance, tax, school, and employment records. Our identities as real as it gets. The only ones that can blow our cover... is us."

Jack frowned at her com-pad for a moment, then looked up, "You said 'ash-ling'... why's this say 'ays-lin?'"

"It's a Gaelic name, and their alphabet has its own pronunciation. It's spelled the way you see, but pronounced 'ash-ling.'"

"Oh."

Rachel took a breath, glanced at her com-pad to make sure she got everything right, and nodded to herself. A little more life entered her as she focused on them. Throughout today and tomorrow, they would work with their identities. When they reached Daedalus the next day, Jack, Riddick, and Rachel would be safely hidden away from the world.

Afterward, she found herself once again in the lounge. The redhead was about to start her homework, as usual, but the com was blinking again. She had a message! Eagerly, she opened up 'Chelsey's' message in-box and read the subject line. It was her mother!

* * *

_ Dear Chelsey,_

_ Thank you for being here for me through this rough time. It's been very difficult, being in the dark about all the chaos in the past few days. I hope to see you soon; it will make me feel much better to have you here. Until then, I wish you luck on everything._

_ I hear you have an adventure of your own in college. It's good to hear that you're doing well in your classes, but I am still concerned about you and your friends. Are you sure that you will be all right with Ricky and Jacquelyn's influence?_

_ Cassandra and Mrs. Zimmerman came to see me, today. We talked about various things. Thank you for sending Rachel's friend a message, it has brought us together and helped me understand some of the circumstances behind her disappearance. Mrs. Zimmerman is helping, as well. She is using her contacts and has been very helpful in reassuring me that they are doing everything possible to find Rachel._

_ I look forward to seeing you again. I'll keep you updated on things on Helion until you get here._

_ Love,_

_ Mom_

* * *

Rachel blinked her misty eyes. This was really more than she hoped for, honestly. An almost bittersweet smile crossed her face. She longed to hug her mother, right now... but there were things she needed to do. The redhead wasn't sure what, but she had a feeling that this was where she was supposed to be. Never one to act purely on instinct, she felt a little bit out of place--but she couldn't deny the _rightness_ of her current position.

Then she frowned. Did either Cassandra or Mom know that Mrs. Zimmerman was a former Marine? Well, Rachel knew Cassandra knew, everyone in Zimmy's class did, but had her friend considered that? Zimmy's 'contacts' could be military in nature. That could be bad for Riddick and Jack. Why did Cassandra involve Mrs. Zimmerman, anyway? She shook her head; questions like this would only cause her worry. Still, they were considerations that she needed to bring to Riddick's attention.

On the heels of that thought, another set of questions followed. Why were they trying to find her? Okay, stupid question, but beyond the obvious, she couldn't come home--not yet. What was their purpose? And what would she do if they _did_ find her? That could be potentially disastrous... Whomever they sent might wind up on the wrong side of Riddick before they had a chance to speak their piece. Alternatively, they could bring a world of trouble to Riddick and Jack. The third option she considered was that Riddick and Jack found themselves in a world of trouble and this contact wound up dead as a result... In almost any scenario, it appeared destined to end badly.

How could she tell them that it was okay and it wasn't necessary to find her without sounding suspicious? Again, there were questions with no palatable answers. Perhaps she could figure something out after speaking with Riddick. However, this could make her seem like more of a liability than an asset. She would have to work out a way that would make it sound less threatening--or at least less of a problem that it currently seemed.

In the meantime, she needed something to both distract her and stimulate her mind. It would help her stumble upon an answer or at least a means or clue to finding an answer. Then a novel idea struck her. She smiled and moved through the various nets toward her destination.

* * *

Torvald sat down at his station after retrieving more coffee. His ever-present shadows followed him every step of the way. As if he could piss a hacker's code down a urinal! He rolled his eyes, and then ended his screensaver. And that's when he found it...

#Aeacus: I'm bored, C4sper.

#Aeacus: Want to play?

#Aeacus: 1. Nb1-c3#

One of the Internal Affairs Officers moved for his radio, "We have a security breach, notify the-"

Torvald rolled his eyes again.

"Oh, _please_, gentlemen. It's Cerberus. _Of course_, there's a breach. What do you expect anyone to do? None of us, me included, can stop them... As for me? I just roll with the punches. Besides, do you _really_ want to call my superiors and have them come all the way here just so you can tell them Cerberus wants to play chess?"

He pulled up a digital chess board for visual reference and moved Cerberus' knight accordingly.

#C4sper: 2. a7-a5

#C4sper: Any new developments on the Aquilan case?#

#Aeacus: 3. Ng1-f3

#Aeacus: Not as such, I've just monitored mundane activity. I discovered they had an account on the _BattleQuest_ server for several games... So I reset all their avatars' stats, levels, and experience to 1.#

#C4sper: Aeacus... that was vindictive.

#C4sper: 4. h7-h5#

#Aeacus: 5. b2-b3

#Aeacus: They've had my name spread all across the news nets as some kind of thieving mongrel! This is just some minor retribution. Besides, when you arrest them, they're not going to play com games in a slam.#

Torvald leaned back and sighed. He really hoped that Aeacus wasn't going to do things like this very often. Granted, he could understand her anger and her want for revenge, but things like this just made it harder for him to justify Cerberus' actions to Sentry.

#C4sper: I suppose not, but please don't do something like that again. The Sentry won't distinguish between this and what they consider to be unprovoked malicious attacks. They'll just be that much more difficult to work with when they're suspicious...

#C4sper: 6. Rh8-h6#

#Aeacus: 7. Nf3-d4

#Aeacus: I understand. Looking, back I suppose it was a little bit in bad form, but I had originally intended to burn out their com. Were it not for the need of evidence and necessary to capture them, its circuitry would have been molten slag by now. I just get so angry, sometimes... They wronged me, very badly. Lots of people in the beginning doubted Cerberus, but they learned that we weren't a pushover--but they also learned we didn't have any megalomaniacal delusions of power and grandeur.

#Aeacus: Then the Aquilan incident happens. I can understand the occasional challenge, but this? I don't understand why anyone would want to do it. I never caused any trouble for them.#

#C4sper: People can be greedy, Aeacus. So greedy that they don't care who or what they hurt or what the consequences might be. You can't take it personally because _they_ aren't personally targeting Cerberus. You were just convenient. People like that are too self-centered to see you as anything than a means to an end.#

#C4sper: 8. Ra8-a6#

Aeacus went silent for almost a minute.

#Aeacus: I can't see things that way. I can't even imagine seeing things that way...#

Almost as an afterthought, Aeacus sent the next move, #Aeacus: 9. Nc3-e4#

#C4sper: That's good. It means you still have compassion, that you value others.#

#C4sper: e7-e6#

#Aeacus: Would you mind if I asked you for some advice?#

#C4sper: I suppose, what's the problem?#

#Aeacus: I have a friend... and I need to tell them something, but I know they're going to be very angry about it. And I don't know what will happen once I tell them, but I can't think of any way to make it less damaging.

#Aeacus: I can't afford to lose this. And if I don't tell them, things could go very badly.#

#C4sper: How bad?#

#Aeacus: Someone could get hurt. Or worse.#

#C4sper: Jesus. If it's that important, why can't you tell them anyway?#

#Aeacus: Because... if my friend thinks I'm the cause of the problem, _I_ could wind up being the one hurt. Or worse.

#Aeacus: I'll understand if it makes them angry, that's to be expected. I don't want anyone hurt, but the situation is very tense and one I can't fully explain to you in your current position. I've been trying to think of a way to tell my friend before it's too late to do anything but watch the fallout.#

#C4sper: I think you need to work out what's likely to make someone else get hurt... and keep that from happening. If you eliminate that, then there's just unpleasant news, not dangerous news.#

#Aeacus: I don't know what's going to happen... I'll try to figure it out. I have a lot to think about now--can we pick the game up later?#

#C4sper: Sure.#

#Aeacus: Thanks. I mean it--thanks for all your help.#

* * *

Rachel pulled the headset off and sighed. What C4sper said made sense. When she thought about it, that was the obvious logical answer. But saying it sounded so simple compared to what she would have to do. What was going to hurt people? Obviously, that would be Riddick. But what could stop Riddick from hurting someone that came after them?

Suddenly, it became important to her to know exactly what Mrs. Zimmerman was planning.

* * *

That night, Jack's dreams were unsettling, but nowhere near as horrible as the night before...

She was staring into a bright light. Jack squinted and turned her face away. It was a window--and the light was Helion's sun. She was back at Lucian's Academy, sitting at a desk in Mrs. Riker's class... typically, the woman taught the History and Cultures classes.

Rachel, Cassandra, and Jack Connors were there, along with a few of the classmates she rarely paid attention to, much less acknowledged. On the board was an image she knew well; it was the image of Richard B. Riddick that was attached to his criminal record.

She blinked confusedly, and then focused on what Mrs. Riker was saying.

"Who can tell me where Richard B. Riddick received his infamous shine on his eyes?"

J.J. raised his hand, "In a slam."

Mrs. Riker nodded, "Yes, while he was incarcerated, but in which prison?"

J.J. was quiet and the other students looked around at the others. Jack watched this oddity and slowly, hesitantly raised her hand.

"Yes, Audrey?"

"In the Butcher Bay Correctional Facility..."

"Correct," said the austere instructor, "Now, does anyone know one of Mr. Riddick's commonly-used, lethal strike zones?"

The class whispered slightly to itself, but no answers were forthcoming. Again, Jack awkwardly answered the question.

"It... the sweet spot..."

"Would you care to explain?" Mrs. Riker said.

Jack blushed, feeling put on the spot, "The abdominal aorta. It's just to the left of the spine, fourth lumbar down..."

From nowhere, Riddick's disembodied voice echoed clearly into the classroom, '_What a gusher..._'

* * *

Jack jerked upright, looking around for a moment before realizing none of it had been real. Then, as she slowly remembered all the details of the dream, she frowned.

"What the _fuck_ was _that_...?" she asked no one aloud.

She shook her head and stared at the clock on her nightstand. The girl still had a good six hours before she had to be up. Jack laid back, heaved a sigh, and tried to fall back to sleep.

* * *

SUNDAY

It was the tenth hour. They were five miles away from Daedalus Station. Jack's hands were shaking as she sat down in the large, cushioned chair.

"You'll be fine. You've done this a hundred times before."

"Y-yeah," Jack said, tensing as the ship shuddered slightly.

She flicked the switch on the course-plotter and double-checked her trajectory with the spinning giant ahead. Once she was satisfied with the speed of her orbit, she sat back and waited.

#Daedalus Station Control to _Spirit of Langavat_, state your purpose and contents,# replied the bored, apathetic tone of the Control.

"Trade-ship; we need to restock and check Supplier Rosters. Just have some personal supplies and an empty cargo bay. Just the three of us, here. Sending idents," she replied in the same bored drawl.

A lag in the conversation...

The Control's reply was gruff and rude, #Verified. You check out. But we ain't got any business for traders. Best just restock and move on.#

"Never said it was _your_ rosters we wanted to check," she replied derisively, then deadpanned, "Locked on and prepared to dock. Awaiting coordinates, Control."

#Take Bay 2, Zone 12,# the Control said shortly.

"Bay 2, Zone 12. Copy that, Control."

The reply was one repeated ad nauseam and without any feeling behind it other than a loathing for the job, #Welcome to Daedalus.#

"Love you, too," she said snidely.

Closing the communication, she moved toward the gaping maw of the station. Daedalus resembled nine tubes stacked in a cylindrical shape, with maintenance shafts and reinforcement pillars that kept them at an even distance. There was a tall spire in the middle of the rings. At the bottom of the spire was a waste depot, at the top a hydroponics dome. Each ring connected to the spire at every ninety degrees via a walkway. The spire was the hub of the station that led to a four-way intersection on every level, with elevators to go to other levels. The middle level, Deck 5, was the docking bay; it put incoming ships within equal distance of upper and lower decks. Jack had never seen the higher-class levels, Decks 7 and 8 with their mess hall on Deck 6... The less wealthy found themselves consigned to the substandard 'living' areas in Decks 2 and 3, and buying over-priced food from the vendors on Deck 4. The other part of Deck 5 and Decks 1 and 9 were all maintenance and machinery for the station... Only Daedalus Mechanics could access those levels.

Technically, Decks 2, 3, 7, and 8 were supposed to be equal... but people in the lower decks couldn't afford to rent out one of the apartment rooms, instead crowding the alleys and the streets with their make-shift housing. The businesses bought the apartments after that, making it impossible for anyone on Deck 2 to get an apartment, anyway. As for Deck 3... Well, no one set foot on Deck 3. Jack and her little posse had lived on Deck 2. But the Connals would be staying on Deck 7. She wondered what it was like up there...

Jack tensed as they entered the station's massive hangar and the ship shuddered.

"You're fine, that's just the pull of the artificial gravity," Riddick said.

She blinked and looked up briefly to flick the switch to the _Spirit_'s artificial gravity off. Jack also hit the other switch beside it to switch the thruster calibrations from Zero-G to Normal-G--to give them a little more cushioning power.

"There you go, now just take us in steady and set her down."

The girl maneuvered the ship slowly over to the landing zone, slowly cut the thrusters back until they touched down, and then rolled down the lanes of their designated bay area. She followed the broad, yellow-and-black lines to Zone 12 and parked the large ship there. Peeling her tightly curled fingers off the controls, she leaned heavily into the pilot's seat.

"Text-book set-down, Jack. You're gonna ace the piloting exam."

She let out a sigh and gave a small laugh in relief for making it through the docking without killing anyone.

* * *

Deck 7 was one step above the slums, whereas Deck 2 had been one step above anarchy. There was room to walk, so one wasn't tripping over refuse lying in the street. Likewise, everyone had a place to stay--no one was peddling or sleeping out in the passageways. The alleys were devoid of lurkers and gangs. Jack looked around and tried to reconcile this with the same Daedalus she'd lived in for two years.

Lunch in the mess on Deck 6 was more than edible. It had taste and substance that she had no trouble keeping down. It was strange and, as she ate with 'Morrigan' and 'Uncle Murdoch,' she continued to cast glances around the various tables, awaiting and expecting some kind of confrontation or having to slip away. She was quiet throughout the small conversation, more than half her attention on her surroundings than on what she was eating.

The redhead watched the other girl's green eyes cast about--the moment 'Aislin' walked off gangway, her entire demeanor had changed. This was 'Jack,' in all her glory and true nature: headstrong, contemplative, suspicious... a street rat that survived in the bowels of Daedalus and lived to flourish into 'Audrey.'

And she was going to blow their cover.

"Aislin," she said lowly, cutting into Murdoch's listing of their objectives while they were here, "you're going to draw attention if you keep dissecting people with your eyes."

The brunette tensed, turned her eyes back to her food, and muttered, "Sorry."

"This is a different Daedalus. You don't have to worry up here," said Murdoch in a low voice.

She nodded.

"Okay, after lunch, we're going to look for some basic supplies. Morrigan, you're on medical detail. We'll need another medical kit, four portable Nano-Med Plus tubes, two regular Nano-Meds of the same, and two large Nano-Med Plus canisters for the ship.

"Aislin, see if you can barter us two crates of assorted food-prep boxes and have them deliver 'em to the _Spirit_. We'll load 'em up ourselves. Don't let them take you above eight-hundred UDs. See if you can work it down to six.

"I'll check the Supplier Rosters on Nemaeus 4. The crates will probably have to be ordered--so it'll take about two days for them to get all the paperwork through and ship it to us. That's fine. So long as we get the order in today, we're good. I should have two or three deals set up with some suppliers by the time they arrive.

"We'll be gone by Wednesday at the latest," he finished, looking at her as if to reassure her, "I want us to meet up back here in two hours. We all know where we're headed... so if you're not here, we're coming for you."

They finished their meals and deposited their trays into the sanitization bins. They all checked their watches and moved in separate directions.

* * *

"You gotta be shitting me."

"Nine-fifty a crate. Best deal you'll find around here," said the merchant.

"They're worth eight. Eight-twenty _at best_..."

Aislin had checked all the prices on a wall com a few minutes prior. Now all that remained was to work the system and haggle with the merchants.

"Hm," she leaned back glancing down the street to another man standing in front of a warehouse door. She called out, "Hey! How much are your food-prep crates?"

"Regulars at eight-fifteen, deluxe at twelve even!" the man called back.

She turned back to the man in front of her and smirked, "Looks like I got business elsewhere..."

The girl started toward the man, whose greedy eye gleamed with the prospect of business. The one she was leaving suddenly called to her.

"Fine, eight-hundred flat!"

The man down the street glared and muttered, then called back to the girl between them, "Seven-fifty!"

"Six," the first merchant returned.

Aislin's eyebrows raised as her eyes played table tennis between the men.

The man further down the street was quiet for a moment, obviously doing some math. He grimaced, but called finally out, "Five-seventy-five, no less."

The other man's eyes narrowed--he couldn't beat it without gouging himself.

"Deal! I'll take two," Aislin said with a grin, moving over to the second merchant.

* * *

"Well, I got your kit and tubes, but the canisters will take a day. They would arrive with morning stock, tomorrow, though."

"That's fine," Morrigan replied, "thank you."

"Can I interest you in anything else?"

"No, that's all I needed to get-"

"Ah, but what about what you _want_? That's a nice com-pad you have there. Need a mem-stick? I got 512 TB sticks. Only five-hundred UDs a stick."

Morrigan's eyes slowly drifted to the shelf with said mem sticks. Electronics had always made her go 'Ooo, shiny!' Could she afford it, though? She didn't want to spend Murdoch's money he'd given to buy the much-needed medical supplies. Wait a second! She had that--she never spent the money she got from the bets at the Pit.

"Sure, I'll take one," she said, passing him another UD chip.

He scanned it, deducted the amount, and handed the empty chip back to her along with the small box. She took and with a smile--the mem-stick would fit on a necklace and she could load Rhad and Minos on there with three-hundred terabytes to spare!

'_I can take Cerberus for a walk..._' she thought with an inward laugh.

* * *

Murdoch sat down at one of the desk com systems. To the right of the com, someone had carved a stylized '_Z_' into the desk. Perching his goggles on his forehead, he browsed at the screen, and called up the rosters. Murdoch checked the channels for open deals. He left requests to three businesses on Nemaeus 4, giving them a message in-box for Murdoch Connal. The lights in the area were thankfully dim and did not hurt his eyes, so he left his goggles up; he could see more this way.

"There something on the back of my head, or you just impatient?" he asked.

The two men who had been trying to sneak behind him jerked slightly when they were addressed. One regained his wits and his balls.

"Hey, old man, this's Zolus ground. You gotta _pay_ to use the com."

The man slowly stood, stepping away from the chair as he turned around, "I gotta pay? Damn if I didn't leave my wallet in the apartment... You want me to pay in blood or somethin'?"

The men had the same stylized '_Z_' tattooed on the left side of their necks. Murdoch frowned... so _these_ were the Zolus. Not exactly Blueskins... The speaking gang member pulled out a six-inch blade with silver damascening on the four-inch, ivory handle. Both he and his partner grinned maliciously.

"That can be arranged," the thug said again.

Murdoch took a step toward the men, commenting, "That's a nice knife..."

They watched him warily.

"...but while we're comparing..."

Murdoch slid out one of his custom shivs from the back of his belt. It didn't have any frills--no engraving, damascened pattern, or precious material for a handle. It was just a long, curving blade about eight inches, not including the handle. The handle itself fit his hand perfectly and leather straps bound the grip.

"...mine's bigger. Never said it was _my_ blood I'd be payin' with."

The men's smirks left them as they looked from the blade to the shined eyes, which glinted coldly into theirs. His mass alone almost matched theirs combined. Murdoch towered over them by about a foot and each step toward them made their previous false bravado die a little more.

"H-hey... easy, man... This one's on the house..." the one Zolus responded, holding his hands up.

"...That's a nice knife," Murdoch repeated.

"Yeah... yeah, you like it? 's yours," said the man, dropping the knife and taking off. His friend quickly followed.

Murdoch bent down to retrieve the knife. He put away both shiv and stylized knife. So much for the Zolus bottom-feeders... Still, he knew the Zolus were major suppliers to Butcher Bay. He knew he would have to tread more carefully around Daedalus if there were Zolus higher on the food chain than the likes of those two grunts. When he was in Butcher Bay, the Zolus had standing deals with Rust. With him out of the way, he wondered what schmuck the Zolus leader was dealing with at Butcher Bay, now--if they were still dealing.

* * *

"Hey, Mouse..." Riddick said.

Rachel turned to face the gangway of the _Spirit_, finding Riddick heading into the ship. She blinked and her expression deadpanned to him, a little less than pleased that his nickname for her still stood.

"Gotcha somethin'."

She raised a brow, "And what would that be?"

Riddick pulled out the knife and passed it to her.

Rachel looked at the knife, noting its damascened handle, "Where did you get this?"

"Some nice guys by the com gave it to me."

Jack rolled her eyes, "Where'd you hide the bodies?"

"The bodies ran off," he replied with a shrug.

"Great," Jack returned sarcastically.

"I sent in three pick-up requests. If they're accepted, we'll have some business on Nemeaus 4 in a week. Should be getting some confirmations in a few days."

* * *

They unloaded the most of the supplies, which they carried by hand to their appropriate areas throughout the ship. It would take the three of them to move the pallets of crates when they arrived on Tuesday or Wednesday. The rest of the night was spent preparing for tomorrow. They would need to get a few more power cells from the station and it was too late to put in the order today. They moved a few supplies and toiletries into the apartment for their short stay. Jack prowled around the rooms restlessly until Rachel stopped her.

"Will you please just relax? If you keep pacing like this, I'm going to strap you to a chair..."

"It just doesn't feel right!" she finally burst, "It looks like Daedalus, sounds like Daedalus, but it doesn't feel or _act_ like it! Daedalus is some kind of _beast_ that devours innocence and kills hope. I _can't_ relax... it feels like I'm in its jaws, just waiting for it bite down! It's driving me bugfuck..."

Rachel stared at the girl, realizing how much of a monster in the closet Daedalus really was for Jack. It wasn't just the events that had happened here; the very atmosphere of the dingy, sub-standard station ate away at the other girl's composure. As far as the redhead could tell, it was inherent to living on Daedalus--it was a hole someone fell into and never escaped. She couldn't grasp that kind of hopelessness... but somehow, Jack had pulled herself out of it. Escaped.

Coming back here must be like proving the theory right, that there was no escape from Daedalus, that it would eventually--somehow, someway--devour the girl whole. Rachel shook her head. That was enough to screw with anyone's worldview. She had seen the various people around here, moving about casually. There was practically no life, no spirit in them--they just consigned themselves to the fact that this was and always would be their lot in life. There didn't seem any drive to leave, just a stagnant resignation. Rachel realized they probably didn't think it was possible, so they were just trying to make the best of a situation they felt wholly and inexorably set.

The very thought was even starting to depress her and make her doubt their chances. Immediately, she cut off that irrational thinking. She wouldn't let it consume her--_or_ Jack.

"You can't think like that. We have the UDs and the ship... the capability to leave any time we want. We'll make it, it'll just be a few days, remember? Restock and refuel... and we're gone."

Jack sighed and nodded, but the words didn't make the feeling go away...

* * *

After dinner, Riddick came out of his room and grabbed his room keycard. He didn't say anything, just left. Jack's eyes trailed him all the way to the door, and then stuck on the door as it slid closed.

Rachel's mouth opened, and then closed. She glanced to Jack, who had a look best described as supreme envy on her face. Just as she was about to ask where Riddick was going (or why it made Jack angry), the girl turned on heel and headed for her room.

"...Lucky bitch," she muttered on the way.

Jack's door closed. The redhead stood alone in the living room glancing from Jack's door to the apartment door. Her eyes widened as the implication dawned on her. Riddick had just left them alone in an apartment on Daedalus so he could _get laid_! ...And then there was Jack, who had said she had no misgivings about what Riddick did. But here she was, angry. A conversation from almost a month ago came to her, when they had been sitting at _Le Rayon de Soleil_...

* * *

_ She coughed lightly, "Er... of course, I remember one time I decided to follow him for a bit-"_

_ "Audrey!" Rachel almost squeaked in disapproval._

_ "I was curious, okay! Anyway, I followed him and he walked into the brothel and I peaked in through this window. The way he looked at the woman... I remember being jealous."_

_ "_Jealous_?" Cassie said incredulously. Jealous of a prostitute?_

_ "I wanted Rick to look at me that way..."_

* * *

Well this was just great. Her friend had a crush... and there was nigh zero possibility that anything would come of it. Riddick didn't seem the type to 'shack up' with anyone. However, if there was one thing she knew about Jack--in whatever guise she hid herself under--it was that whenever the girl put her mind to achieving something, she usually got it...

Rachel could predict much drama coming of this from miles away. A martyred sigh left her. She was going to be at ground zero for all of it. She went to her room and tried to sleep. It was rough, because she could hear Jack tossing and turning in the other room and the ventilation system made noisy clicks, squeaks, and groans every time it started or cut off. She turned on her side, stuffed another pillow against her head, and pulled the covers up over her in an abortive attempt to cut away the disturbances.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

I cannot believe the amount of writer's block that occurred on this chapter. There are several major points (though I know practically none of it will make sense until later chapters)... and then lots of filler. I hate filler. It stumps me--writing mundane junk that might actually seem interesting. But I think, finally, I managed something that isn't a total waste of your time. I hope you agree. Anyway, on to my comments about this chapter.

Jack's dream was a long time coming. It's a major point--obviously. If you own Dark Fury, you might even know the guy in her dreams. This dream kinda makes it blaringly obvious, though. I'm sure there are going to be questions about this, but don't worry. I'll explain it in future chapters.

I realize that I say that a lot, 'explained in future chapters.' Well, it's true. I do tons of foreshadowing for my story and sometimes the actual events themselves don't come to pass for several chapters. Look how long it took me to get them off the freakin' planet! Heh.

Seems I lost a few people with the 'Weekly Report' by Doctor Sorin cel Rau about a third of the way through Chapter 12. At this point in the story, I'm writing chronologically (actually, I've been doing it the entire time). Wednesdays will hold a new Weekly Report by the doc. (No worries on this front, I have all his reports at the ready.) So you'll find out more about his specimen and his project as time passes in the story.

On another note, I'm not anthropomorphizing Minos or Rhad. As Rach said, they can calculate and approximate proper emotional responses... but they don't know when they're going too far and they don't care. Their first goal is to learn. For Rhad, whose first Human contact other than Rachel was Jack telling it to shut up... that meant discovering what makes Jack tick. For this reason, it purposefully antagonized her from time to time.

As for Jack's _second_ dream (the weird one)... hey, we all have really out-there dreams from time to time. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason behind them. I call them WTF dreams. You can tell why.

FINALLY! Daedalus... It's been a long time coming. I have _plans_ for this place. I've foreshadowed the Hell out of Daedalus Station. So if you've kept up with the chapters and can remember the various mentions of it, you might be able to see where I'm headed. I guarantee, though, that it will have my personal touch to it--so even if you see it coming, it's not gonna be predictable. Does that make sense? No? Good. Heh.

Oh! You can see some reference material, now! It's on my profile under the updates for CoD. There are lots of pics--some of people, places, and things yet to be featured. But nobody you don't know if you've watched the movies.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	14. 14: The Gang’s All Here

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 14: The Gang's All Here..._

MONDAY

The morning left much to be desired, Rachel decided. She tiredly dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. She ignored the squeaks and clicks of the ventilation as she dressed, the cool air blowing on her skin making her shiver and dress faster. Rachel made sure to tuck the knife Riddick gave her into her waistband. He'd told her not to go anywhere without it. Just in case, he had said... Still, fitting a knife in the school-issue skirt wasn't exactly easy. Maybe Jack had the right of it with pants and a belt to hold a shiv snug to her back. She sighed and decided that she would buy herself some more clothes.

Rachel hadn't packed anything with her save what was in her backpack; school supplies, mostly. That did not include clothes. She'd been wearing Jack's hand-me-downs for workout sessions and a few for casual wear around the ship. Now, however, she had the time and opportunity to get something that fit her well, providing her with more than four days of clothing that, until now, required her to do her laundry twice a week.

Things were marginally better after a glass of orange-pineapple juice. After that, she noted down on the com by the door that she was heading back to the dealer to pick up the Nano-Med Plus cartridges for the ship's medical bay, to the ship, and then back for some clothes.

The cartridges were waiting for her when she reached the dealer, so she simply paid and loaded them into her emptied backpack. The man had tried to entice her with more electronics (some of which really were drool-worthy), but she didn't have any more money to spend. She thanked him and headed for the docking bay, noting various stores where she could buy clothes along the way. She dropped things off at the ship and returned to the Vendors' Section in short order.

The clothes weren't spectacular in selection, but they didn't stand out. As with Jack's clothes, she would likely fly under the radar in these. That was fine, though; something told her that drawing attention to herself in this sort of place would bring her more trouble than help. She bought four dark blue pants, three khaki pants, and six assorted blouses in grey, white, and deep, forest green. That would be enough, she figured. If she needed, she could get more later.

When she got back, Jack was eating a quiet breakfast. Riddick was looking over his com-pad, ordering the appropriate power cells for the ship. There was a tense silence from the brunette that Riddick didn't seem to notice. She glanced at the two for a moment, and then decided to let it be. Before she could move off, however, Riddick addressed them both.

"The power cells should be here by this evening and I ordered some maintenance parts for the ship. We'll probably have some work to do later today, so keep your evening clear."

"Fine," Jack said, standing up and moving back into her room. The door slid harshly, giving as much of a 'slam' as was possible for such a portal-door.

Riddick finally glanced up from his com, watching the girl retreat. He glanced over to Rachel for an explanation.

She shrugged, "Girl moods."

'_There is _no_ way I am explaining this to him..._' she thought as she moved toward her room.

"...Jack doesn't _get_ 'girl moods.'"

She stopped, turning back to him with an incredulous expression upon her face. That wasn't even directed at her and she was extremely offended! Her grey-blue eyes bored into Riddick until he finally lost patience.

"_What_?"

The fact that he didn't understand further infuriated her.

"Jack is a beautiful, young woman, Riddick. The sooner you realize that, the smoother things will go."

So saying, Rachel moved into her room to hang up her clothes. Riddick remained at the table, com-pad momentarily forgotten as he stared at the doors to their rooms. He blinked once.

'_What the fuck did I say?_' Riddick asked himself.

Well, if it was a 'girl mood,' then she'd get over it. That's how it worked--moods passed. He picked up the com-pad and completed his order. After a moment, he tossed away the com-pad and shook his head. He could take them both out, ditch them, or worse... and yet, somehow, he was feeling strangely outnumbered and outgunned.

* * *

Alexis moved through the halls of Lucian's Academy, which were vacant during lunchtime as the students were refueling in the cafeteria. A quarantined had been placed on certain areas of the school until repairs could be made--and classes were being held in other portions of the school that hadn't been used in years, but classes were finally continuing. A commotion from the main office ahead of her made her lengthen her strides to reach the doors quicker.

"Someone is making a mockery of us. We should check the students' com-pads for malware," said Mr. Deckard, instructor of Com Technologies and Calculus.

"We cannot do a school-wide search. It would take months to go through all the coms when we do not even know what we are looking for," said the headmistress of the school, Ms. Satou.

"The handwriting matches both of their previous submissions. However, the submitted documents were not from the school, anyway--so it is doubtful it came from any of the students here. It's very elaborately done," said Mrs. Riker.

Alexis watched them from the doorway for a moment before speaking up, "Maybe it's genuine."

Everyone looked up as she moved into the room. Both her presence and her statement causing a momentary lull in the heated discussion.

This seemed to be what Ms. Satou was waiting for, "Ah, Mrs. Zimmerman. Thank you for your presence and your contribution to this discussion. We must keep an open mind, and not close off ourselves to any possibilities. Anything can be possible."

Alexis' eyes fell on the small manila folder in front of Ms. Satou's calmly clasped hands. When she glanced up to Ms. Satou, the other woman inclined her head and a ghost of a smile lit across her features. Zimmy took a seat, waiting for the woman to continue.

Finally, all were here and all were quiet. Ms. Satou reached into the folder and retrieved a set of papers. She stood up and began walking around the table that seated the various school members.

"I have asked you all to attend this meeting because of the strange events surrounding a mundane assignment submission. As you are all aware, Audrey Knight and Rachel Rileigh are missing--and are suspected to be off-planet.

"You all have your theories of how their homework might have been submitted, but I am inclined to believe Mrs. Zimmerman's theory. It would take a great mind to find a way to submit their homework to our hidden server on the network. Without proper understanding of coms, such as Mr. Deckard's expertise, and the passwords... or knowledge of how to bypass our security... this is not possible."

Finally, she began passing out the papers in her hand. The silence reigned as she spoke, even though several disagreed. The headmistress of Lucian's Academy was a formidable mind and power--both of the school and on the Helion Council. When she spoke, people listened. Were it not for this, the room would have descended into pandemonium several minutes into the meeting.

"Does anyone know who might be capable of such a thing?"

The various teachers who had the two girls in their classes began muttering amongst themselves once again. Alexis was quiet as a paper landed in front of her--and a thin, light grey binder underneath it. None of the others had such a folder. She ignored the paper in favor of lifting it to peek at the binder.

The Alliance Marine Corps logo stared back at her. She felt her entire body tense and she dropped the paper back onto the folder. Goddamnit.

"If you will look at your papers I have passed out, you will see test scores. Please note the cumulative score, 183, and the corresponding label of 'profoundly gifted.' This person has the qualities one might need to find our secure network and submit files to it without raising alarms.

"This file was not made public because the student wished to remain with her... peers. We all understand how 'fitting in' factors into many children's decisions. With this in mind, I do believe the submissions are genuine."

'_Rachel's a genius..._' Zimmy thought in wonder.

Alexis looked over the broad range of tests... they all said the same thing, more or less. She stared for a moment, taking in what it meant--and how a number of things were possible that hadn't made any sense over the past few days... like messages from 'Chelsey.'

"Even if this is true, we all know that Audrey Knight is an accomplice to Riddick," said Mr. Deckard.

"This may be true, but we do not know what--if any--extenuating circumstances there could be. Moreover, as an educational foundation, we have an obligation to provide an education to those who pursue it. This school also has a program wherein students in juvenile detention centers or even incarcerated adults might attaint their G.E.D. Regardless of their legal status, our obligation supersedes our opinions on the matter.

"It is my decision that we should grade these and any other submissions that happen to find their way to this establishment."

Mrs. Riker spoke up, "Shouldn't we be doing more? These girls might be in danger. We would be sitting here, grading assignments, while they could be at the mercy of that criminal."

"I find that unlikely," said Alexis.

The others eyes turned to her for explanation and she decided to explain. It really did seem clear to her, but maybe that was just looking beyond the obvious--a skill her military training provided.

"If the girls were in danger, capable as Rachel seems, she would have sent a message of distress... not calculus homework. Riddick tutored Audrey during my Phys. Ed. classes. During that time, I saw no displays of murderous or psychotic behavior. I can't see that changing just because Audrey and, most likely, Rachel are alone with him. For all we know, he might have ditched them on some way station, by now."

'_But I doubt it. There's something between Jack and Riddick... he wouldn't--she wouldn't _let_ him--leave her behind..._'

Ms. Satou gathered her things and returned to the head of the table, "If there are no further questions pertaining to the assignment submission, we may adjourn this meeting. Please bring any other concerns to my office on an individual basis and we will seek a proper solution. Now, I believe we all have classes to hold in a few minutes... Mrs. Zimmerman, a moment more of your time, please."

The room slowly emptied and, as it did, Alexis pulled back the paper to stare at the Silver Clearance binder. She half-dreaded what orders lay within its pages.

"Alexis. It has been fifteen years since you came to us. I was a little surprised to find that on my desk, this morning. From the look upon your face, I assume this is a surprise for you, as well."

"Yeah," Zimmy said, sitting down because just staring at the binder was making her a little dizzy, "Yeah, you could say that. ... I was happy here. Lance died here and I half expected to stay here 'til I joined him."

"You fear the Alliance will pull you away from the peace you have found here."

Alexis nodded. She wasn't sure if she could do it. Just pick up and go back to the wars and the death...

"This morning, I had a rather long talk with some gentlemen in full military dress," she commented, making Alexis' head jerk up, "Perhaps you should read what is inside before you make your decision."

Decision? She had a _choice_? ... Choices given at the Silver Clearance level were often having to pick the lesser of two evils. She really dreaded the pages, now. Nevertheless, she cracked open the binder.

Scanning the contents, and then re-reading it more carefully, she threaded her free hand through her hair.

"I don't understand," she muttered.

"When the Alliance discovered that Richard Riddick had been here, and that they had an agent at 'ground zero,' as they are currently calling the Academy, they noticed your recent activities. It seems you have been busy..."

'_Goddamnit,_' Alexis mentally cursed again, "I'm just trying to get Rachel home, that's all. I'm not going to endanger her or Jack just to help them get to Riddick."

"You need to look at those papers again, Alexis. The Alliance and the Council would like to discuss the possible utilization of Mr. Riddick's... unique skills."

Alexis frowned. Riddick work for the Alliance? Fat chance.

"And what's my part in all of this?"

"Just keep doing what you are doing, Alexis. The mercenary, Ms. Logan... you offered her a deal--to speak with Rachel, correct?"

Shit, the Alliance had traced the sources she had tapped to find the merc, as well. It seemed as though they knew just about everything they did--except for the messages from 'Chelsey.' She intended to keep that ace up her sleeve. She hoped the Alliance didn't want her to set up a trap... getting on Riddick's bad side was not on her list of things to do before she died. It would also put Rachel and Eve at risk.

"Yes..."

"Then you merely need to append a message for Mr. Riddick onto this original message. Then Ms. Logan can deliver both messages at once... Rachel is with Mr. Riddick, is she not?"

Zimmy hesitated, and then nodded. They'd figure it out, eventually, anyway.

"So either help them with this or step back and let them take full control of the situation..." She only had to think for a moment, "I'd rather be involved. At least I can help direct things in Rachel and Logan's favor."

Ms. Satou's tiny smirk was chilling, "Believe me, Alexis, I made my opinion known to your superiors; if they endanger Rachel, the Council will not support them in their endeavors. ...And we are very _healthy_ contributors to their funds."

The coach blinked. If she could make this work for her... things might pan out better than she expected.

* * *

The power cells and heavy maintenance equipment arrived around the sixteenth hour. Jack, Rachel, and Riddick replaced the old power cells in ten minutes, but Riddick had planned to make some additions to the ship. The maintenance equipment was for fixing some standard weaponry on the stern and bow of the _Spirit_. More technical sensory equipment and secondary weapons were set port and starboard. Attaching these pieces of equipment only took about two hours, but Riddick said that it was the fine-tuning--the calibration of the sensors and guns--that would take up the most time. He would also have to map the cockpit--either setting them as alternates in the navigational array or adding tactical hardware and software.

"Possibly," he said, "have to gut the cockpit, replace it with a hybrid navigation and tactical setup, and reconfigure ship settings."

"Minos and Rhad might be able to help with the settings and calibrations. They're pretty good with that sort of thing," offered Rachel.

Riddick considered it for a moment.

"...We'll see. I don't know how much work will need to be done until everything is attached and online."

"What do we need them for, anyway?" asked Rachel.

"Pirates like to go after larger, family-run trade-ships like ours," Riddick explained, "Traveling the trade routes can be dangerous if you're carrying something useful like Nano-Med supplies and Vectran."

Rachel frowned slightly, "Are you anticipating trouble?"

"No, but it pays to be cautious. Call it insurance. The defense system put a little dent in my account, but the three hauls we're pulling will make it up twelve times over."

* * *

After they finished their modifications and maintenance, the 'Connals' retired to their apartment. Jack tossed and turned in her bed. Again, she was having trouble sleeping. It didn't matter what she was _seeing_; she knew Daedalus was still the same quagmire of despair. Five and a half years couldn't have changed that. Eventually, she found herself fed up with trying to sleep in her soft bed, cool sheets, and relative quiet (the air vents easily ignored). Daedalus was meant to have a squalid stench, broken only by the noisy bustle of rarely washed people at all hours, where the only rest one could find was in some stiff cot or on the hard, metal floor. She decided to get out--no real destination in mind, but she couldn't stand to stay in her room another hour.

Moving to the com next to the door, she put down a short 'Checking out the old haunt.' With that, she wandered the halls... meandering her way to the spire. Jack hadn't really meant to wind up there... but once there, she saw no reason to stop. The once street rat hopped on a lift and rode down to Deck 4.

As the doors opened to that infamous ring, she rubbed the side of her thigh. She vividly remembered the flash of light glinting off the blade when she'd attempted a pull on a man that noticed her. It had bled and bled, but wasn't life threatening. She was making pulls again two days later.

The pungent smell of soup was heavy in the air, mixed with the bitter odor of garbage lying about in piles. People milled about in a gigantic herd, making moving through them difficult if you didn't know how to move. But Jack was used to the crush of movement; knew it worked in waves and could slip through it easily.

Jack wasn't heading to the vendors, just wandering the area. She picked a direction and moved in it... Someone brushed up against her. She paused, rolled her eyes, and turned around. She saw the little blonde head and caught up with the boy. He couldn't be more than eight years. She caught his arm swung him around--out of the crowd, and nearer the wall. The boy was startled and his eyes were wide. Wisely, he didn't make a commotion. Attention was something you didn't want down here.

Crouching down, she looked him in the eye and spoke quietly, "The Hell are you doing? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"I didn't do nothin'," he responded as the standard denial.

"Worse--you did nothing, and you did it _wrong_."

She pried his hand open and retrieved her UD chip. Reaching into another pocket, she pulled out a second UD chip.

"Look at this. Hey! I said _look_," she practically growled.

When his eyes jerked back to her, she continued. She stuffed the chip into his pocket.

"You got a chip there. You see that little rectangle it's making in your pocket? Don't go after that shit. That means it's too tight to fit your fingers in..." She put her fingers back into his pocket, retrieving her chip. "Felt that, right? Well, I felt it when you made your pull. ...Okay. Look, you stay here--watch me."

Jack scanned the crowd for a moment and singled out a man wearing a thick duster, "Guy in the long coat, 'kay?"

The girl stood up and sifted through the flows and ebbs in the waves of people. She slipped by the man in the duster, not even brushing against him. A flick of her arm and her fingers had delved shallowly into his pocket, fingers snagging the little rectangle and flicking it into her palm. She made a broad circle back to the boy, who had obediently stuck around.

She sat down beside him, opening her palm, "See? Loose pockets. 's a gamble on whether there's anything in there... but you'll double profits and half your risk."

She handed him the chip she'd filched and moved away. When she was out of sight, she shook her head. Rubbed her thigh again. It was best if he learned early, would keep him from getting into any nasty situations.

'_Good Samaritan Jack,_' she mentally griped at herself, '_You're fucking with the rat race... Don't. Get. Involved!_'

To keep herself out of trouble, she decided to leave Deck 4. There were tons of pickpockets and she couldn't set up a Thief 101 Workshop. She wound up on Deck 2. There were four Sections to every deck and each section had six Corridors, labeled by letter. She'd come down the walkway leading to her old habitat. Maybe she'd give her former territory a pass... see if it was still standing. She found that she had been correct in her assumptions prior to reaching Daedalus. More lights had gone out--or maybe they were broken--and the entire area was a little darker, a little more dangerous.

The street rat girl padded through Section 1 of Deck 2, moving quietly as she took in the depressing scenery. _This_ was the Daedalus she knew. _Nothing_ had changed. She wasn't reassuring herself, just confirming her suspicions. Jack didn't make eye contact with anyone, but took in every person she passed. No one she recognized... but then, she hadn't much looked at any faces when she was younger, either. She knew she looked different; she'd _filled out_. Jack huffed. At one point, she'd feared "growing out," as she had called it, because it would blow her cover.

A slight commotion caught her interest. She glanced apathetically to a hallway leading off the main path. She saw a girl, around ten or eleven, slowly corralled by three men into an alley.

* * *

..._his hand snagged her ankle, pulling her balance off and sending her face-first into the ground. She could taste blood..._

* * *

She blinked and shook her head, ridding herself of the phantom image. Jack swallowed to rid herself of a imaginary taste of blood. She watched for a few seconds, trying to remain objectively apathetic.

'_Don't get involved..._'

She continued to stare.

'_Jack... don't you dare._'

Girl had to be around the same age as she had been when...

'_No! Stay out of it! You'll just-_'

Her legs took her over to the alley almost of their own volition. They all had their backs to her--except the girl, who pressed her back against the wall. Another memory overlaid an image of her younger self over the girl. She pushed it away and slammed an elbow into the base of one man's skull. He slumped and dropped to the floor like a rock. The second man, alerted by the sound of a falling body, turned around and she grabbed his arm. With one hand gripping his wrist and another putting pressure on his shoulder, she swung him around and rammed him headfirst into the wall.

The third man lunged at her. She sidestepped and planted her knee against his solar plexus. He stumbled back against the wall, next to the girl, and gasped for air. Jack was upon him in a second, shiv drawn and held under the man's chin. Her green eyes were blazing and she tried not to get _too_ carried away. Another body would just wind up in alerting people to her presence.

"You feel that?" she said appreciatively, "It's nice and smooth... razor sharp. Titanium-vectran alloy. I made her myself. She hasn't tasted blood yet. I could make you her first... What do you think?"

She pressed the tip a little bit further into the soft skin just above the neck and below the chin. A small droplet of blood welled at the point.

"It'd just take a nice jab into your femoral artery, a flick across the carotid... or maybe I'll just sink her into your inferior vena cava--_there's_ a bleeder."

She paused, appearing contemplative for a moment, and then trailed the shiv from his neck to his chest, then his abdomen, until the point of the shiv reached his crotch, "But then, who would clean up the mess? So how about this: If I ever see you around here again, I'll give myself a crash course in vasectomy. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah I got it," the man said quickly, eyes keenly fixed on the blade.

"Then get lost," she growled as she shoved him away, making him trip over the unconscious bodies of his friends.

She stood in front of the girl as he grabbed his friend's hands and dragged them farther into the alley. Once they had disappeared into the darkness and Jack could no longer hear them, she turned to look over the young girl.

"This helping thing is harder than it looks," she muttered, realizing how difficult it must have been for Riddick to help them on M-344/G. She knew he'd never intended to come back. She wondered what Fry could have possibly done to change his mind...

With a sigh, the brunette took in the girl's appearance. Fuck--the kid was _pretty_, which meant she probably attracted all sorts of attention to herself. Couldn't even cut her hair short and wear baggy clothes; the girl was too... girly looking. The girl's fine, black air came down just below her shoulders, framing her face. Her skin looked smooth and was almost bronze in color. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and stared widely back at Jack. Shit, nothing could hide the girl's eyes.

"Got parents?" Jack finally asked.

The girl looked hesitant, but answered quietly, "My mom. We live around here, but I got lost when I started running from those guys."

Jack shrugged, "Well, Section 1's big--that's easy to do. Where d'you live?"

"In Corridor E..."

The brunette blinked. That would take her right by where she had been heading, anyhow. She'd wanted to check her old posse's territory and it was in Corridor E.

"Huh... know where that is. I'll drop you off on the way. So, you got a name?" Jack asked as she moved out from the alley, motioning for the girl to follow.

"Pandora. Pan for short," the waiflike girl said.

Jack jerked to a pause in her gait so severely that she almost tripped. Her head was already whipping back to the girl. This time, she looked her over more closely. She continued walking, trying to ignore the whirling thoughts in her head. She'd just drop Pandora off and head back to Deck 7...

"...R-really? That's an interesting name. I'm Aislin. Aislin Connal..."

Pan looked at Jack oddly, but seemed to dismiss whatever was on her mind.

"Where'd you learn to fight? And did you really make that knife?"

"...My uncle used to be in the military; he became a trader when he got out. I'm a junior partner in his business now and he's giving me lessons here and there. Speaking of which, after I drop you off, I should head back. Getting kinda late. ...And yeah, I made her myself."

Jack held out the shiv so Panny could see. It was the larger of the two sister blades with the pommel spikes.

"Careful--don't touch the blade. It really is razor sharp."

The girl looked over the shiv and nodded. Jack decided not to put it away just in case they ran into more trouble on the way. She glanced to her right as they passed Corridor C. It was still empty. They could probably use the back-alley and go around D instead of through it. She'd used the shortcut before, when she lived here...

"C'mon, this way's quicker..."

Pan looked up at her suspiciously, "How d'you know your around here so well?"

"Looked at the map by the elevators. Listed all the Corridors on this level."

Pan didn't believe the girl--she knew the shortcuts, but the back-alleys weren't listed on the map. Still, Aislin had helped her out of a sticky situation and was making sure they didn't have any problems on the way back home... so she left the girl to her privacy and secrets.

They exited the back-alley and found themselves at the very back of Corridor E. It outwardly appeared to be exactly like Corridors A through F. In fact, the layout was the same from A to X. But about twenty yards into E, someone had erected a sheet-metal barricade... some kind of makeshift door. They'd done the same to the back. It'd been there for a while, even before Jack's posse. Since it was empty, they'd taken it and made it theirs. Panny led her straight there. The door looked a bit more rusted, but it _had_ been five and a half years.

'_Damnit,_' Jack thought as she stood in front of the door. She wanted to stop _by_ Corridor E, not go _to_ it! She'd leave when the door opened and Panny would be safe.

The younger girl knocked in three series of three knocks--likely for a safe code. Jack still remembered her safe code. Her eyes jerked back to the door when it quickly swung open. Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her inside! She hit the wall beside the door and a shotgun shoved itself in her face.

"Drop the knife," ordered a blonde man a few years older than herself.

In a flurry of motion, Jack reversed the direction of the firearm. She hit the bend of his arm with the pommel of her shiv and used her free hand to grip the pump. She forced the shotgun up and shoved it against the man's chest with the barrel under the man's chin; he couldn't pull the trigger without blowing his own brains out. Her shiv now held a position to the side of his chest, poised at one of his upper intercostals, ready to pierce a lung.

"Panny... go check on your mother. As for _you_," she muttered, enunciating with a light poke with her shiv, "I don't know who the _fuck_ you think you are, but the last three people that aimed a gun at me didn't live too much longer. So I suggest--strongly--that you _never_ do that again, as I've been told I have a problem with... restraint."

Jack's hand pumped the shotgun until all the shells popped to the floor, and then pulled the gun from the blonde man and tossed it aside. Her hand shot out to the man's throat and held him against the wall.

Pandora finally found her voice, "Stop it! Stop it, that's Micah. He's our guard... he's supposed to watch the door! He's a friend..."

'_Micah_...? _No _way!' She thought.

Micah had been a stringy sixteen-year-old with a mouth to rival Jack's. This guy looked like he worked out regularly and had at least a foot on that boy. She frowned. Had five and a half years really changed them all that much? She jerked her shiv away and stalked several paces away from him. She growled to herself.

"_Shit_..."

She could have _killed_ Micah. And if she wanted to be honest, he could have killed her. What the fuck was he thinking? She sighed and shook her head at the absurdity of events. Definitely time to go. She headed for the still-open, makeshift door.

"Aislin, wait," Pandora called after her, "No one's called me 'Panny' for years. And you know your way around here too well to just be some visiting trader..."

Pandora knew that Aislin knew more about the group than she let on, but how? Besides her mother, Jessie and herself, there hadn't been any girls in the group until a couple years ago. That was when Tyler had brought Robbie and Veronica. They'd run straight from an orphanage on Nemeaus 4 and wound up stuck here. And Veronica was six--it wasn't likely that the little girl knew Aislin. Pan had stopped calling herself 'Panny' before Tyler, Veronica, and Robbie ever came by, anyway.

Jack could see the figurative gears in Panny's head turning. She curtailed the thought-process before it got too far. She had to turn away lest her more emotional side--dredged up by memories of the past--influence her to do something wreckless.

"It doesn't _matter_, Pan. I'm not gonna be here long enough for it make a difference."

Her turn to leave, but once again something stopped her short. This time, however, it was someone yelling. Yelling in _agony_. She jumped, turning to look farther down the Corridor. There was a curtain on a string. It was where the beds were, if the layout of the little hidey-hole hadn't changed. It was a male voice--Micah was right there... so it had to be either Mike or Sebastian. The thought of something happening to them--something that could make the cry out like that--put her in a worried panic. Pan and Micah were both running for the curtain divider.

Before either reached it, Jack blew past them and whipped the curtain aside. There was a man, older than she was--older than Micah by a few years, actually. Several people surrounded him, but she ignored them. His blonde hair matched Micah's, but was a wet brown... soaked with sweat. Sebastian. He shuddered and cringed, practically convulsing on the cot.

She knelt next to it, putting a hand on his shoulder. She gave him a little shake. He didn't respond. She frantically turned around to look at Pan.

"What's wrong with him? What happened?" she asked forcefully.

"_Rush_," Micah replied darkly, "He got shot up with Rush a few weeks ago. It's the newest drug the Zolus are dealing... He got held up by some Zolus and fought some off before they ganged up on 'im and almost OD'ed 'im on it. He's going through withdrawal."

A look of fear crossed her face. The Zolus... No, they weren't here right now. She could help Sebastian. They probably thought he was already dead, anyway. She shot to her feet, startling several of the small group around her.

"Hang in there, I'll be back."

Jack ran out of the Corridor, bolting through Section 1 until she reached the walkway to the spire. She slowed down only slow enough not to bring attention to any of the likely crooked guards that watched either end of the walkway. She impatiently rode the lift up to Deck 5, where she made her way to the _Spirit_. She punched in her access code, ran up the gangway, and darted into the Medical Bay. She slid open the door to one of the cabinets. Jack didn't exactly know what she was looking for... but things were labeled for a reason, right?

"Where the _fuck_ is it?" she yelled in frustration.

"Are you looking for something?" asked Minos and, in a rare moment, she was glad for the programs.

"My friend was forcefully shot up with some drug called 'Rush'... it almost killed him, but now he's going through withdrawal."

"Searching," said Minos, "'Rush' is an illegal performance enhancement drug that briefly enhances synapse fire rate. It is a derivative of an amphetamine formula. Side effects include tachycardia, fever, migraines, and an irritation to the nervous system that causes severe pain. Regular use of this drug can lead to the deterioration of the nervous system, muscle atrophy, seizures, insomnia, paranoia, and mood swings.

"Prolonged usage will result in paralyzation of voluntary, and then involuntary muscles. The inability to chew or swallow, followed by failure of muscles in the digestive system, necessitates external nourishment utilities. When the lungs and heart can no longer function, mechanical apparatuses must replace them as well. The weakening of the immune system is the cause of many deaths. The brain is unaffected, and cognitive functions remain intact. Life expectancy of a chronic user is three to five years."

"Fucking... So what do I do?"

Rhadamanthus was the one to reply, "Successful treatments for overdoses of non-chronic abusers have been one dose of Nano-Med Plus; this will repair minor damage to the nervous system and muscles, and will reduce fever. A muscle relaxant will lessen damage caused by seizures. Mild analgesics administered simultaneously will reduce the pain caused by an overloaded nervous system."

"Where's the muscle relaxant and analgesic..." she muttered, returning to opening the cabinet. A motorized sound drew her attention.

The wall-mounted com's camera device moved and began sweeping the room, and Rhad answered, "Analgesic and muscle relaxants are located on the fourth cabinet, second shelf."

"Yes!" she whispered triumphantly as she packed the ampoules and cartridges along with the hypo-gun into a medical kit bag, "I have to get this to him..."

"Logging inventory change. Note: do not administer muscle relaxants more than once every forty-eight hours, analgesic more than every six hours, or Nano-Meds more than every three minutes," warned Minos.

Jack nodded absently, but committed the treatments to memory. She turned and left the ship. Rhadamanthus, following security procedure, closed the ramp after her and locked down the ship.

* * *

Rachel woke up to a chime on her com. She stared blearily at the com, and then sat up quickly. Snagging the com off her nightstand, the redhead pulled her glasses on. What she saw had her dressing quickly and running over to Riddick's room.

She harshly rapped several times on the door rather than waiting patiently. Riddick answered the door in a tank and pants, feet in his boots--still unfastened, and goggles in hand. Wow, he wasn't kidding when he said they would always have to be ready to go...

"Look," she said, practically shoving the com in his face.

#Access to Ship: 25:07.#

#Change in Medical Supplies Inventory.#

#Departure from Ship: 25:16.#

"Where's Jack?" Riddick demanded.

They both looked to her room door. It was open. The bed was empty. Riddick rushed over to the com on the door and read the message.

"Fuck, Jack!" he snarled, slamming his fist against the wall. He retreated to his room to fasten his boots and shove two more shivs on his person.

Rachel came over to read the note as she tugged on her shoes, "Old haunt?"

"Deck 2. She and a little pack of strays used to live there."

Rachel blinked incredulously, "But the lower decks are-"

"I _know_."

Rachel ran back to her room, lifted her pillow, and snagged the knife Riddick had given her. When she put on a belt, it fit snugly against her back without any discomfort. Her shirt hid the weapon. She supposed Jack had the right of it, then. She also grabbed her currently empty backpack and stuffed her com-pad and a headset into it. The redhead came out from her room to see Riddick already heading out the door. Rachel hastened to follow.

Since they were staying in Section 3, on the block between Corridors Q and R, they were very close to the walkway. Riddick and Rachel quickly made their way to the spire and down an elevator to Deck 2. They scanned the initial crowd, but found no sign of Jack. She could be anywhere on the deck... neither of them knew where Jack's gang had nestled themselves. Never the less, they spent the next four minutes looking moving slowly and practically counting heads. People on the street ignored them for the most part. Someone came charging down the street, paying them no mind as they rushed by. Riddick watched the dark haired girl zip down the hall, medical kit in hand.

He slid his goggles up since there wasn't enough light on this deck to hurt his eyes. Riddick supposed Jack was right when she said that Daedalus would be plunged into darkness someday. He followed Jack, cursing the fact that she knew the area better and was gaining distance. He saw her duck into an alley and he stopped at the mouth. As Riddick stared into the barely lit Corridor C, Rachel came up behind him, panting. She wasn't cut out for this sort of thing...

He moved down Corridor C, picking up speed as all he found was trash. Rachel groaned jogged after him. Jack had turned the corner up ahead and, once they reached that, Riddick repeated the slow-down-and-survey actions... Were it not for his caution, Rachel probably would have lost herself. She doubted he was doing it for her benefit. Down this unmarked passage, Riddick saw Jack turn up the next Corridor. A few people occupied the back-alley and they warily stared as Riddick stalked (and Rachel skittered) by them.

* * *

Jack slid through the open door and darted around several people nervously milling about the little makeshift home her gang had occupied. When three of them got in her way, she lost it.

"_Move_!"

They jumped and scuttled out of the way. She moved over to Sebastian's cot and knelt by it again. The man was a little more stable... no longer wracked with pain and convulsing. She reached out and smoothed some of the hair back. She took a rag resting beside the bed and wiped the sweat from his brow. Jack bit her lip; he seemed unconscious. She talked softly to him, anyhow.

"Hold on there, old man. Got some stuff... it'll fix ya up."

She jerked back when he began talking.

"That you, squirt? When'd you get back?"

Jack shook her head, even though he couldn't see it, "Don't talk. Just rest. I'm giving you some general meds an' somethin' to keep your seizures down."

"How d'you know that'll... work? Bastards... shot me up with Rush."

"Got some medical instructions--I'm sure it's safe. Don't worry," she muttered, "Now be quiet, stop straining yourself, old man."

Micah watched quietly as the girl loaded up a hypo-gun and shot his brother with two ampoules and one Nano-Med Plus cartridge. That had to be close to seventy-five or a hundred UDs, right there... Where'd she get it? Pan had said Aislin was riding with her Uncle, who was a trader. It was total bullshit to him--no visitor knew Daedalus well enough to run off to another deck and be back here in less than half an hour. And Seb seemed to recognize her--so there was a good chance that he knew the young woman as well. Who the Hell did he know that kicked ass and had UDs? No one.

What had Sebastian called her? 'Squirt?' Maybe his brother was delusional. He used to call Jack that, but he split about five years ago. Hell, for all he knew, the kid was killed and never made it back from pulls that night... maybe got caught. He frowned as he thought about it more. On the other hand, Jack used to call Seb 'old man,' too. It was too much of a coincidence that Aislin used the nickname, too.

She was talking to Kiara, now. It didn't seem logical... but he had to test the theory.

"-and the muscle relaxant only every forty-eight hours. But the Nano-Med cartridges you can give him every three minutes. I-"

"Hey, Jack," Micah called.

"Hold on a sec," she replied, and continued explaining the procedure to Kiara, "I got him a box of cartr-"

Aislin froze mid-sentence, her entire body tensing. She glanced over her shoulder at him, green eyes narrowed. Jack had green eyes. Jack was... well, he'd never really _saw_ the kid's equipment (and if _that_ wasn't a strange thing to think about, nothing was...); he'd just assumed Jack _had_ to be a boy. He looked about as surprised as she looked angry. It was still hard to believe...

Jack was a _girl_.

"I should probably go," she told Kiara, "Make sure you keep him on this stuff 'til the Rush passes out of his system."

Micah move in front of her, "Hey, you can't just-"

"You can get yourself out of my way, or I'll get you out of my way, Micah."

"You're Jack. You were pretending to be a boy... Then you just up and left! Where the fuck have you _been_ the past five years? And what's with this Aislin bullshit?"

"_Micah_..." Jack warned.

Pan whistled shortly to get their attention. Pandora had been their good-eye for several years; she would watch for people and Micah would make sure no one got in the door. He turned to the girl, who raised two fingers. Two people headed their way. Jack glared at his back as he moved to the doorway, picked up the shotgun, and loaded four shells littering the ground into it.

There was only one pair of footsteps audible, but he trusted Pan. He saw two pinpoints of something in the dark. Maybe metal reflecting off the one remaining light in the corridor outside their doors. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the pinpoints were around a large figure's head. The footsteps came from a shorter person behind them.

The large man stopped about ten feet from the door and stared. Micah waited, but the man just stood there, as though waiting for something. The man seemed to get what he wanted because he headed for the door. When the man was about a foot from the door, Micah jerked the door open and aimed the shotgun at the huge guy.

Suddenly, the shotgun was pressed against his chest and he was shoved into a wall. Two, bright, silvery eyes pinned him to the wall as much as the arm did.

'_Fuck, not_ again_!_' he thought.

"Rick! _Don't_," a voice shot across the small area.

Obviously, this man hadn't planned on pumping the shells out, but splattering his brain on the ceiling. At least he knew where Jack got it from...

"Jack," said Kiara, coming up behind the young woman.

"It's fine... everyone's fine. Kiara... this is Richard and Rachel... Rachel, Rick... this's Kiara," she nodded to the people who'd frozen on the spot at the commotion, "Mike, Jessie, Pan. My idiot friend you were seconds from ghosting is Micah. ...And this is Sebastian."

She glanced as the boy about her age holding a young boy and girl against him in the back of the cot-filled section of the 'home,' "Don't know them. Must be new to the gang."

"Anyway, I was just about to leave," her eyes cut to Micah, daring him to contradict her, "You didn't have to come down."

The bald man pumped the shells out of the gun and wrested it from Micah. The young man threw up his arms in exasperation and went to pick up the stray shells... again. Meanwhile, the Richard then proceeded to tear into Jack.

Riddick tossed the gun away, sending it skidding into a wall, "The fuck we didn't! You come down to this shit-hole, run to the ship, grab medical supplies, and come flyin' back like a bat out of Hell... What'd you think I'd do?"

"I doesn't matter, Rick. We should just go now..."

"Jack, you scared us. You shouldn't just go for a midnight stroll, especially not here!"

"Look, let's just leave while we can. The longer I'm here, the more danger everyone is in! They have my _DNA_, Rach. If someone does a scan, they'll tear the entire Section apart!"

Micah stared at her, "What the fuck for?"

"Jack. You're overreacting," Riddick said.

"_Overreacting_? Don't you remember when I told you about that guy that wanted to bring me back to his gang to be one of their sex-slaves?"

"Why didn't you tell one of us?" Micah asked, but Jack ignored him again.

"You told me you killed the motherfucker," Riddick said evenly. He didn't like where this was going...

Micah's eyes darted from Riddick to Jack, "You killed someone?"

Jack crossed her arms, "You're damn right, I did."

Riddick shrugged. "Then why's it so important all of the sudden?"

"He was a _Zolus_."

Then he lost it, "_Shit_, Jack, of all the people to run into..."

Micah and the others paled. Killing a Zolus usually brought the whole lot of them down on the person and anyone helping them. The blonde shook his head and looked at Jack.

"You killed a Zolus?"

Finally, Jack addressed him, "_Yes_, Micah, I killed a Zolus. What the fuck did you want me to do, go join them as one of their subservient fuck-pets?"

"_No_!"

"Then get off my back! I didn't wanna come back here and I don't plan on stayin' very long." Her attention turned to Riddick, "So can we _please_ leave, now?"

Pan blinked, staring at Jack as much as everyone else. She remembered how sad she'd been when the boy that brought her mother and herself to this little shelter disappeared... It seemed that the boy was actually a girl; must have been disguising herself. She understood that--her mother said she would have done that for her if she thought it would have worked...

"We're supposed to help each other... that's how we always worked," Pandora said.

Some of Jack's anger deflated; she couldn't aim it at Panny. She spoke gently, but firmly, "You couldn't have done anything. I didn't want you guys getting hurt. I left to keep you and everyone else safe, Panny. _I_ was trying to help _you_..."

'_Damnit, now I'm feeling guilty,_' the brunette thought darkly.

A chime sounded. All eyes turned to Rachel.

The redhead jumped, slung off her backpack, and pulled out a com. Something was happening with the Aquilan case... She tapped through a few screens and her eyes hardened.

While totally engrossed in the pad, Rachel blankly made a request, "I don't suppose anyone would have a com unit I could patch into...?"

Jessie and Mike glanced between each other.

"Rachel, this _isn't_ the time, we need to _go_..."

"Actually, I think we should stick around 'til I get a handle on just how deep things go here," said Riddick, "I ran into a couple o' Zolus on Deck 7, yesterday. If I'm gonna be having run-ins with 'em, I wanna know how they're runnin' Daedalus."

"Rick!"

"This is not up for discussion," he said decisively.

Jack made a sound, closer to a growl than an utterance, and stalked back to the cots. She took up a seat by Sebastian, who was now resting. She couldn't believe this! She was only planning on passing by and now Rachel and Riddick wanted to stick around for fuck-knew how long! Her hard, green eyes stared at a dirty spot on the wall across the 'bedroom.'

* * *

Kiara came over and sat next to Jack, watching the girl's angry expression bore into the wall. Regardless of the beautiful young woman Jack had become, she saw that her tomboyish nature had not diminished. The girl looked good; well fed, physically fit (well trained even, if she considered her violent entrance).

"Jack... you're looking well."

"Yeah, well... looks can be deceiving," Jack muttered.

She briefly glanced to Kiara. The woman still looked fine... she would be what, thirty-five? Thirty-six? She didn't look starved or weak. The gang looked like it was doing well. Growing and not having to stretch its resources so far that people were missing meals. She looked back at the ground, picking up a piece of miscellaneous metal--might have fallen from the ceiling or the walls. It was about thirteen inches. She twiddled and between her fingers idly.

"You seem to have escaped Daedalus. That's a start," Kiara intoned.

Jack gave a quiet, if harsh laugh. She pulled a file from her left boot--the right held her secondary shiv. The brunette sighed and focused on the piece of metal in her hands and started dragging the file across it.

"Some escape," Jack muttered, "Look where I am. The easier path would have been just goin' with the Zolus. I prolly woulda died in a few years, though... I dunno. But then I wouldn't've met Rick. Wouldn't have met Imam or Fry... or made it to Helion."

The file shaved off more and more of the metal; she shaped it with strong, sure strokes. She was using an advanced tool, one that could easily shave lengths of most metals... it was probably expensive, but she'd never asked Riddick how much it was. It made good shivs--the sister blades were proof of that.

Kiara watched Jack fool with the metal, but said nothing, "What happened, Jack? I want to know why you left and where you went... How did you get to Helion?"

The girl worked the piece of metal into a roughly cylindrical shape for about a third of its length, with little grooves she'd carved into it. Jack gripped that third and worked on the remaining two thirds.

"Killed the Zolus. Knew they'd find my DNA 'n' stuff... so I figured that if I left, they wouldn't find me if they did a scan. Everyone had an emergency stash, right? I used mine. Got a ticket to a ship an' decided I could make it off Daedalus.

"I made it off, alright. Straight to a world of monsters..."

Straightened the length of the piece. Shaved a curve to it. Tapered the ends to a fine edge.

"Our ship crashed... lost most of the people then and there. That world mostly finished what the crash started. Wound up one of three people to leave that planet. The other fifty or so..."

Kiara winced, realizing what a panic Jack must have been in by that point.

"Who'd you run into on that planet?"

Made sure the blade was straight. Sharpened the edge. Checked its balance. No go, best shave a little off the handle. ...Better.

Jack shook her head, "No, I mean real monsters. They were all claws and teeth on wings... And they were hungry. There were a few other survivors 'sides Imam, Rick, 'n' me. Lot of 'em got eaten."

Kiara tried to find words to express herself, but wound up whispering a quiet prayer--even after the fact.

"My God-"

The girl glared at her, "God had nothing to do with it. He wasn't _there_! That place was Hell, and that Fucker didn't give a _shit_ what happened to us! We had to save ourselves!"

Jack's attention returned to the worked piece of metal. She stabbed an errant piece of cloth lying nearby, began carving it into strips with the new shiv. After a few moments of the pointless destruction, her anger abated for the most part. She'd prayed with Imam. Prayed and prayed... But it didn't do any good. Riddick was the one that came to save them--the one person everyone feared would kill them in the first place.

"So we get off that rock and some psycho rich-bitch nabs us. Owned this huge, fuckin' ship and sent a whole crew to kill us. Rick saved us again... and we were gonna leave. But she came outta nowhere and shot Rick in the arm... an' I saw one of the guys' guns sittin' there. She was about to shoot him again. So I shot her head off..."

_Thunk_. She stabbed the piece of cloth again, staring at it as though it offended her.

"Fucking bitch..."

"Oh, Deirdre..."

Jack recoiled, knife pulling from the cloth and she rocked away from Kiara as though the woman struck her. Back against the wall, near Sebastian's cot, her suddenly widened eyes narrowed and the green hue seemed to darken and gleam hatefully.

"_Don't_! She'd dead! I'm _not_ digging her up, damnit. You can't make me--not you, not Imam, and not Rick! She was too weak! _I_ made it off Daedalus. _I_ survived the crash an' that planet 'n' everything. Me, not _her_!"

She hugged her knees to her chest and stared at the wall again, shiv gripped tightly in her right hand, knuckles white. Kiara stared at her strangely... painfully. The woman understood that Jack had been through a lot, but it hurt to know that she felt it was necessary to 'kill off' a part of herself just to survive.

Kiara had seen things like this before--it was how she had recognized Jack was a girl in the first place. She'd been an official government social worker, helping troubled children integrate back into society. The woman understood the pitfalls that children could stumble across, knew how to pull them out. Her superior, however, had used his position of power to manipulate some of the children to commit crimes for his own profit. When the Alliance discovered it, they shut down the whole building, putting it under new management and re-staffing all the way down to the filing assistants.

She'd started looking for a job immediately, but Nemaeus 4 lacked a large job market for social work focusing on minors despite the abundance of troubled children across the planet. Before she knew it, she'd had to file bankruptcy. It cleared her of the creditors she owed, but it put a black mark on her financial records and made it that much harder to find a place to live.

It had spiraled from there... and she decided it would be best to pack up and find work elsewhere. She caught ride up to Daedalus; had intended to just stop briefly, and then move on to Nemeaus 7 or maybe a new system altogether. Nobody told her Daedalus was a trap. She occasionally worked the streets when things became tight. It seemed deplorable at first, but it was the only way to provide for Pan. She had become jaded to it by now, and sometimes that hurt.

Her mind was still sharp, though. She knew the signs, knew what to do... but she couldn't afford to help anyone, anymore. God knew she would love to be able to go back to her old job... Jack had escaped Daedalus and a number of other dangers, but she had many emotional traumas. The girl needed to work through it, and Kiara wanted to help--but it didn't seem like they had the time it would take.

The silence dragged on, and finally, Jack broke it.

"Sorry... just... just don't bring that up, please," she said softly.

"It's okay, Jack. I understand. You know, you're amazingly resilient for going through what you have. Other people might not have made out as well as you have."

Jack shook her head, "I'm not strong. Every time I've been in trouble, Rick's pulled me out one way or another. Wonder why he came back for me at all, sometimes. He coulda left us there, in that cave when the monsters were everywhere. Fuck, he was _in_ the skiff--he coulda just left. Logically, it was too dangerous to come back. We would've just huddled there 'til those fuckin' creatures pulled away the rock... I could hear 'em outside, scrapin' at it. So why risk it?"

Jack shuddered, the melodic voices from her dream and memories singing through her mind. She squinted her eyes shut and grabbed for the tooth on the silver necklace hidden under her shirt. She made it out; she survived. It was okay... It was okay...

The brunette took deep breath. As she calmed down, the creature calls disappeared and she opened her eyes--not to the cave, but to Daedalus. Oddly, that relaxed her. Daedalus, for all its iniquity and dangerousness, was a vast improvement over _that_ planet...

Kiara said nothing as the girl worked her way through her fear of the awful place. She knew that was at least one of the girl's traumas. There wasn't much to do about it, though. The survivor's guilt she plainly saw--but it appeared that someone, this 'Imam,' had already addressed it. Eventually, she supposed, Jack might accept it; but it was up to Jack to do so...

"Richard seems like a good person. Sometimes people don't have the chance to do the logical thing--they're not given many choices. They chose the best path they can find. But Richard would have been wrong if he hadn't at least tried to save you."

Jack sighed, "Imam keeps telling me Rick made the right decision, but sometimes it doesn't feel right."

"What's logical isn't always right." Jack's grip tightened on the silver necklace. "What've you got there, Jack?"

"We'd made it to the ship... and he wasn't behind us. Fry went to find him... but the monsters got her. Rick showed up after that. One of the creatures had bit his leg. Left this behind.

"Since it fought Rick, I'm pretty sure he killed it. He put it on a chord after Imam and I got it out. Said it reminded him of what a real monster was. He gave it to me before he left me with Imam. I wanted to go with him. He _should_ have taken me with him!"

Jack's eyes had turned to where Riddick was talking with Micah and Tyler, "...He was never a monster to _me_."

'_Mm, not a monster, but he _is_ a beast..._'

Even though her animal side seemed very pleased with this fact, the thought made her blush a bit.

Shrewd, dark eyes watched Jack. Kiara wondered what was between Richard and Jack--but that was probably a long story in and of itself. Maybe she should talk to Richard, see what he could tell her...

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

And so the story of Daedalus begins. I've got stuff tying in from previous chapters and this section is a lead-in to the development of future events. You've seen everyone in Jack's gang, whether you know it or not. So I'll break it down for ya (even I need this reference from time to time).

The Old Gang:

Sebastian (leader) - 18

Micah (security) - 16

Jessie (hacker) - 15

Mike (hacker) - 15

Jack (pickpocket) - 11

The Extended Gang:

Sebastian (leader) - 19

Micah (security) - 16

Jessie (hacker) - 15

Mike (hacker) - 15

Jack (pickpocket) - 11/12

Kiara (medical) - 30/31

Pandora (none) - 5

The New Gang:

Sebastian (leader) - 24

Micah (security) - 22

Jessie (hacker) - 21

Mike (hacker) - 21

Kiara (medical) - 36

Pandora (good-eye) - 11

Veronica (pickpocket) - 8

Tyler (chef) - 17

Robbie (none) - 6

I'm not going to provide the full history on everyone... That would take time and there's no good place for me to put it. It would break the flow of the story. However, if you want more information, I'll be glad to e-mail you about them.

More on the Zolus and Jack's gang as we go along. This isn't likely to be a super-happy area. That seems like common sense, but don't expect too many happy/humorous moments to pop up. Many serious events are occurring and Jack's not happy to be in the middle of it.

I feel like stressing that when I say 'gang' pertaining to Jack's old group, that they're obviously not a gang in the same sense as the Zolus, the Blueskins, or the Sureños. They're just a group that banded together for the power of numbers out of the necessity of survival. They don't have any influence and, if the Zolus cared enough, could probably crush them with minimal effort.

The Zolus were mentioned in Butcher Bay (Jack and Coyne in Single Max, Twotongue and Cusa in Double-Max). I wanted to do something with them, because nothing more was said on them. Well, now they have a much larger part than just a side-note in some passing dialogue!

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	15. 15: Belly of the Beast

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 15: Belly of the Beast_

Rachel watched Jack retreat after Riddick's decision. It would probably be best to leave her be for a bit. Her eyes shifted to the com-pad. She pulled out the stylus and began a rapid navigation of the screens until she could bring up the proper programs she would need.

"Is there an available com anywhere nearby?" she asked again.

Mike glanced at Jessie again, "Uhm... sure. You can use ours. It's not fancy or fast, but it's stable."

"That will be fine. I just need the screen and the console. I'll patch them to my com-pad; I won't have to use your drive-space or resources."

Jessie frowned, "You'll have to open the com-pad for that..."

"Modified the case," she said as they led her to a small area with a dated, but resilient desk-mounted com console. "Do you have a screwdriver?"

One entered her vision and she made short work of pulling out the screws. She put them on the desk carefully, so they wouldn't roll away. There was a small depression on her case; she'd worked a small latch on there. It looked like the rest of the case, so unless someone knew it was there, it would be hard to discover. Pushing on the latch, it popped open and the case bottom to the pad came off. A beep sounded and an alert appeared on her screen. She deftly set both pieces of the com-pad aside and reached into her backpack for the headset.

"Rhad, can you kill that error message? I've got the pad open."

"More modifications?" it inquired.

"No, just patching to an old com," she turned back to the siblings, "I need some pliers..."

Curious as to where the teenager was taking things, Jessie reached for a pair of pliers and handed them to the redhead. The girl put the screwdriver between her teeth and took the pliers. The girl deftly reached in and separated a small wire and its connector from an equally small socket. A series of incessant beeps sounded.

"_Rhad_... de e'or nessaje..." she mumbled around the tool, a bit perturbed.

Rhadamanthus took a moment to interpret the command, and then ceased further error messages until otherwise notified.

Reaching around the desk com, she found the wire port she sought. Pulling around in front, she raised her brows. The port had a three-way split to connect to pads, other desk coms, or a larger, wall-mounted com. Definitely custom work...

"'nven'ive..." she complimented.

She set aside the pliers and removed the screwdriver from her teeth. Plugging her connector into the port, she moved her hands over the keys.

"Minos, I hooked the pad up to a console and a monitor. Switch input/output to those..."

The desk monitor blinked and the fiery background with the black, metal gate and Cerberus guarding it appeared on the screen, "Done."

Her fingers began a rapid tapping over the keys, the clicking filling the small area in an incessant drone. The rest of the gang was used to the sibling hackers doing their thing, so this went ignored. Jessie and Mike, however, were staring at the girl in something close to shock.

Screens were popping up all over the screen and arranging themselves. Rachel's face was expressionless as she spat out a few commands that the two recognized in passing, but didn't have the time to figure out what the functions of those commands had been.

"Open the V-ID Mirror program. Might need that in a bit."

"V-ID Mirror running," responded Minos.

"You've got command bots?" asked Mike.

"The monitor has some side-mounted speakers, route audio output, too" she told the programs. Her attention split for a few seconds to answer the fellow hacker, "No, Minos and Rhadamanthus are dual-running Artificial Intelligences. This is Mike and Jessie. Say hello, boys."

A sneaky, raspy voice issued from the speaker, "Hello, Jessie."

"Greetings, Mike," Minos' voice formally followed.

Jessie pointed at the screen, squinting in disbelief, "_That_ is Cerberus...?"

Rhad answered, "We are the Ternion Sentinel at the Gates of Hades."

"Cerberus is a program," Jessie uttered in a stunned tone.

"No," Minos corrected, "Cerberus is a group consisting of Rhadamanthus, Aeacus, and myself. That two heads of Cerberus are executables is irrelevant."

"Focus on the threads, boys. The reversed algorithm's found the remaining UDs. I want each and every denomination tagged. Do we know what accounts they came from?"

"Yes," said Minos, "the money can be reversed at any time. Should we do so, Aeacus?"

"No. Just make a list. We'll give it to Sentry. Hopefully then they'll be able to put down the insolent pups and replace the UDs themselves. I don't want to be any more involved with Aquilan Banking Trust than I already am."

Jessie frowned. Hadn't Cerberus knocked over that bank? Why would they be putting the UDs back? She shook her head, still amazed. Cerberus was two AI programs run by a girl younger than her!

"What are you doing?" the young woman finally asked.

Rachel was silent for a moment as she tapped more keys, but finally answered, "Violation of the second Law. This is my response. I'm delivering the imposters to Sentry... and giving the suits the means to put the UDs back in their proper accounts."

Mike folded his arms and nodded as if he'd expected as much, "...So it _wasn't_ you... who the Hell is stupid enough to frame-"

"We don't know. But they will be paying dearly in due time... Once this is done, we hope to see our name cleared publicly. That was Sentry's promise and they had better keep it."

"You're working for _Sentry_?" Jessie said aghast, glancing to her brother worriedly.

"Forcing their hand, actually. They initially wouldn't have anything to do with me. But they came around after I threatened to disable their hub."

"You what?" Mike said, jaw dropping slightly.

Most hackers feared and ran away from Sentry agents... Cerberus just waltzed in and threatened their hub! ...And if he thought about it, this _girl_ just waltzed in and threatened their hub. Jesus...

"Well, they wouldn't listen. Thankfully, C4sper was there to smooth things out."

"C4sper--one of the Riddlers?" Jessie said, easily remembering the alias, "He was with you?"

"No," negated Rhadamanthus, "C4sper is currently in the employ of the Sentry Sector. C4sper's Bogus Criteria was discovered and two Internal Affairs officers have placed him under suspension. Cerberus negotiated the charges against him to be dropped. The Department of Defense accepted the terms of the negotiation. However, C4sper is currently at his station, still under the supervision of the officers."

Rachel's typing halted.

"Rhad, how do you know that?"

Minos replied, "We are monitoring events through their surveillance equipment installed in the Sentry Sector."

"_What_?" Rachel exclaimed, "You are _not_ supposed to enter Sentry without me--_or_ my permission!"

"We did not," Minos replied, "The surveillance is on a separate network, with a server located off-site. It has remote access."

Rachel put her head in her hands, "Boys, you- ...never mind."

Jessie asked in an almost hushed voice of awe, "You can see inside the Sentry Sector?"

The redhead shrugged, "Apparently so..."

* * *

The man's eyes were unnerving. He didn't like looking into them, but Rick seemed to command his attention by his very presence. Micah dare not take his eyes off him. He supposed that Jack had told the truth in part--she was shipping with some trader. But why the fake ident? Whoever Richard and Rachel were, they needed the 'Connals' as cover for something. The way Rick handled himself did seem to lend truth to the military background thing. The redhead was with their hackers, and the sudden typing lent to the likely fact that the girl knew her way around a com--another hacker? How did Jack run into these two? Neither of them seemed to fit the mold for a family of traders. He wondered how they pulled it off--maybe they were just good actors. Then again, so was Jack; he thought she was a boy for two years...

"So... the Zolus..." the man prompted.

Micah glanced back to his brother, resting peacefully, now.

"They're the heavy hitters here. Got the whole station in their grip. They design drugs, run 'em, deal weapons... they have 'protection' schemes and they have the numbers to make sure nobody fucks with them. They have most of the guards on Daedalus in their pocket, so they'll never be of any help. They have intersystem connections, too..."

"Supplied Butcher Bay and other places with their black market, basically. I get the idea," Riddick said.

Micah frowned. How did Rick know about the Zolus' deals with the prison? It wasn't exactly common knowledge. He had heard things, but it was just talk... He shook his head, the more the man spoke, the deeper he seemed to go.

'_Trader my ass..._'

"Anyway, a while ago... couple o' years before Jack came to Daedalus... the Zolus went through a major reform."

This caught Riddick's interest. Changes in long-standing gangs always meant something big happening.

"The Zolus used to be led by a guy callin' himself 'Zed.' He was a typical kinda gang leader, just extorting and thugging the lower decks. Some pretty reliable sources told me that some guy came in on a ship wanting to keep under Alliance radar. Must've had some pretty powerful connections, 'cause he just slipped into the Zolus. The Zolus got a hazing ritual, y'see... and the guy didn't go through it.

"Rumors say he 'n' Zed never got on. They say the guy just kept his head down and didn't do nothin' for the gang. So, eventually there's a confrontation... and this quiet guy? He just up and kills Zed in the fight. Says he's takin' over the Zolus."

"Did he?" Riddick asked, not liking what he was hearing so far.

The Zolus should have killed the guy and then went into a period of vying for top position. Someone just taking over and everyone going with it? Only large-scale intimidation through power does that. The whole thing sounded dirty; and anything dirtier than a big-name gang was trouble. Riddick wanted no part of it... best just to pass through and leave them to themselves.

"...Yeah. And ever since then, the gang's shaped up. Drugs and weapons started pouring into Daedalus worse than ever, and the new guy wasn't just doing it on the lower decks. He's got the upper decks, now, too."

Riddick crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, "The idiots I ran into on Deck 7..."

"Yeah, they're everywhere, now. Rumors say that the new guy's runnin' the entire gang from Deck 8. But if that's what I heard-"

"Then it's probably misdirection--and he's in the heart of it all," Riddick finished.

"Deck 3. It's Zolus gangland. That's why Deck 2 is so crowded, 'cause the Zolus practically took over the entire third ring."

Riddick glanced behind him and jerked his head toward the back of the den, "Think the woman wants somethin'."

Kiara was motioning Micah over. They talked for a few seconds and Kiara headed over while Micah stayed to watch over Sebastian. The woman looked like an adult version of the girl, Pan. Long, black hair with large, dark eyes and dusky skin... But her eyes held an astuteness that almost immediately put him on guard. Those eyes were almost hawkish in their intelligent focus.

"Let's talk outside for a moment," she said, passing him into the darkness just outside the doorway.

Anything that can't be said in the presence of others typically meant nothing good. Nevertheless, Riddick followed. He leaned against the wall opposite Kiara, those bright orbs glinting in the light. His form practically melted into the shadows, where the single ceiling light couldn't reach.

"Jack needs help, Richard."

"You gathered that, huh?" he said sarcastically.

She crossed her arms, hard eyes staring imperturbably into his, "She has a lot of trauma and she needs stability... and someone to work her through it. I might have tried if I thought I had time, but I have a feeling you're not going to stick around any longer that absolutely necessary."

"No offense, but I don't think either of us can do shit. Jack's head's locked up tighter than a max-sec slam."

"I used to be a social worker for troubled children. I know the signs and right now, you're probably the only thing keeping her together. You saved her life--now you have to take care of it."

Riddick's eyes rose up to the single light, staring at it as though it held some divine answer. He said nothing.

"You should be more than capable," she continued, "After all, if Jack's head is like a slam, you've got the experience."

His gaze slammed back on her, eyes narrowed and the muscles in his neck jumping when his jaw clenched. The woman was dangerously close to dying.

Seemingly oblivious, Kiara went on, "Before I began working with children, I wrote a dissertation on the behavioral developments of people before, during, and after incarceration. I used a lot of biographical data on some very well-known convicts. I analyzed their changes in behavior inside these 'slams'--and in some cases, their changes in behavior after they got out.

"In spite of your seeming popularity with plenty of facilities, did you know there's not much on you at all? All I ever found was what you've accomplished, not the why or how of it all. But I had my own theories that I put down on my work. I received a high score for it."

Her confidence mustered and she took a small, calm breath, "Frankly, I don't give a fuck what you did or what you're going to do. But I care for Jack. She's strong, but she doesn't know how to save herself. Someone will have to teach her. And I don't mean just keeping herself alive. You can't just teach her the ropes and expect her to take off with all she's been through."

His hands clenched into a fist. Who the fuck did she think she was?

"You're a survivor, Riddick. Take the damn time to help her survive, or she'll be eaten alive. If you don't... then you might as well have just left her to _die_ on that godforsaken planet!"

Riddick opened his mouth, but couldn't find an appropriate comeback. Later, when he calmed down, he would realize she was just talking sense. But right now, her words had infuriated him beyond thinking straight. He needed to clear his head.

With a growl, he turned off and headed down the dark alley to... somewhere. As long as he put some distance between them. If he stayed, he was likely to kill her. In fact, he was already envisioning one way after another of snuffing the life out of the bitch.

* * *

He wound up back at the spire; stalked into an elevator and slammed his palm against the buttons for a random deck. When the doors opened, he stalked out in much the same way. Riddick paused as his anger peaked. The only reason she was alive was for Jack's sake. She would have gone apeshit over the woman's death.

...For Jack's sake.

"_..might as well have just left her to die on that godforsaken planet..._"

He punched the wall to cut the voice out of his head.

"You lost or somethin'?" someone asked derisively.

Riddick glared at the man, "You're in my way. I'm not in the mood."

"Man, you _are_ lost. You're on _our_ turf. We run this shit!"

Riddick took the time to glance at the wall, where the deck number had been painted. He was on the third deck. What were the odds? He mentally shrugged. Five other men had come up behind the first man; they all had the Z tattoo.

"I said... you're in my way..."

One of the men behind the guy pointed, "That's him! That's the fucker from Deck 7 that stole my knife!"

The first guy looked between the other man and Riddick. Riddick pulled down his goggles. Surprisingly, most of the lights on Deck 3 were not only intact, but also in good condition. He watched as the group seemed to compress, then spread out, tensing like a giant fist ready to grab him.

His thoughts went to the three shivs he carried... but at the moment, he was still pissed about Kiara and wanted to dole out some damage with his bare hands. His animal was howling and roaring inside and it was only by the barest of threads that he was holding on. It wanted _out_. He held his hands out in an open gesture.

"You boys gonna talk all night, or you wanna shot?"

"I'm gonna tear your head off and piss down your neck!" said a large, black man from the back. Reminded him of Bam's physique...

He had at least six inches on Riddick; he shoved through the group as if he was wading through grass. Like a tank, the man rolled upon him, swinging his massive arm and equally humongous fist at Riddick's head.

Riddick ducked and rammed his elbow into the man's solar plexus, then followed with an upper cut. As the man reeled back, almost into the five other men, he was already charging forward. He punted the man in the groin, causing the man to crumple forward. Riddick caught the man in a guillotine choke before he could completely topple. He gave a sharp tug and an audible pop sounded.

Riddick dropped the corpse, raising his eyes from it to the group. The commotion had drawn three other Zolus out of the woodwork nearby. It felt good to cut loose; he was going to _enjoy_ this.

A pipe, a chain, a shiv, and a pair of knuckledusters appeared in the mass. They circled Riddick. Three charged him, a chain thrashing down at him. A man with the knuckledusters charged from the side. Riddick sidestepped the chain and caught one of the metal-clad fists flying at his face. Drawing a shiv from his belt, he jabbed it quickly under the arm, hitting the man in the brachial artery; for good measure, he swiped at the man's throat. He tossed the bleeding man into the third man, who had hung back while looking for an opening.

The sound of chain links had him crouching and rolling. The chain clattered to the floor beside him, and he snagged it and pulled hard. The man, who had wrapped the chain around his wrist, exclaimed his pain as the chain hauled him toward the escaped convict. Riddick jammed the shiv forward, plunging it hilt deep under the man's sternum. He could practically _taste_ the copper from the very air; its tangy, scintillating scent engulfed his mind even as the liquid life rushed over the blade and his fist. The animal had been unleashed. He surged to his feet, lifting the man on the shiv as bellowed and shoved with both arms.

The men scattered as one of their own came flying at them. Three more headed in, among them the men with the pipe and shiv. The man who had hung back pushed Knuckleduster off him and slammed his fist into Riddick's back. The escaped convict gave a grunt and whipped his arm around in a back fist, and then charged the man into the wall. The force of the impact likely broke a few ribs. Out of instinct, he lunged to the side. The pipe came hurling through the spot Riddick had just occupied and cracked the man he'd slammed against the wall upside the skull.

"Fuck! Someone fuckin' kill that asshole, already!"

Someone had snagged the chain from the body and came up behind him, but he was waiting for Knife and Pipe to step in. Apparently, he didn't think it wise to go one on one. Unfortunately, the bastard did _not_ know who he was fucking with.

The pipe came swinging at him from the right and the man with the shiv was waiting on his left. He ducked. Like a golfer, the next blow came in an upward swipe. Riddick back-stepped to avoid it. A chain-wrapped fist hammered him in the right kidney. When a second hit came from behind while he was half-turned, Big Evil growled and he snagged the arm.

He stepped back and pulled the man's arm back and behind him. A sharp jerk and a scream signaled the dislocation of the shoulder. He took the time to gather himself while keeping the man between himself and Pipe and Knife. Riddick unwrapped the chain from the unresponsive arm, used it as a garrote to strangle the life out of his meat shield. The pain in his back reminded him that now wasn't the time to get too carried away. It was time to end this.

He pulled the chain taut until he could feel that he'd crushed the man's trachea. Slackening the chain, he dropped the man and wound the chain around his free hand. The four remaining men--two of which were unarmed--were much more cautious after losing five of their own. Riddick didn't feel in the mood to give any quarter.

They all charged him at the same time.

Riddick stepped into Pipe's swing, minimizing the effect of the blow as he took it on his arm. He rammed his chained fist into the man's nose, breaking it and flattening him on the ground. A stomp to the neck took care of the rest. The man with the shiv slashed at him, but he backed up and spun around with swipe of his shiv. The unarmed man behind him caught the unexpected blade across the face and cried out, covering his right eye and nose. With no one left behind him, he advanced on the man with the shiv and the remaining, unarmed gang member.

He came in closer feinting with the blade. The man jerked away and Riddick lunged, putting his free hand in the man's face. The shock of his obstructed vision made him flail out, giving Riddick the chance he needed to stab him twice--once just above the floating ribs and once in the neck.

The last man cut his losses and ran. Riddick traded his shiv to his other hand, plucked the knife from the most recently dying Zolus, and hurled it after him. It slammed into his upper thigh, staggering the man and sending him to the ground. The throbbing pain in his back as he stood up told him that there was likely some damage there he should see to, soon.

He walked over to the man with the slashed face and grabbed either side of his head. A quick jerk and he'd broken the Zolus' neck. The retreating Zolus was pulling himself slowly away, arm over arm. Riddick came up behind him, snagged him by the ankle of the injured leg, and pulled him back toward the mass of bodies, leaving a trail of blood from the thigh.

The man screamed, cursed, and dug his hands into the smooth metal, but couldn't find any purchase. Riddick swung him into a wall by the leg and kicked the man in the ribs to roll him onto his back. He kneeled down.

The man was panicking, "Fuck, man, don't do it! Don't kill me, I ain't gonna cause no trouble. Don't kill me, don't kill me-"

"Shut the fuck up," Riddick demanded, losing patience, "How do you stay organized? Who's leadin' the Zolus?"

"We got a new system--ev'rybody had ta learn it! Boss said he'd kill anyone that didn't tow the line! I'll tell you whatever you want, just lemme go!"

"Who's leading the Zolus?" Riddick reiterated more forcefully.

"Name's Randal! Randal fronted the Zolus... after killin' Zed," the man said, hyperventilating at Riddick's deadly proximity, "He's some kinda... some kinda military guy. Has some kinda trainin', took down Zed like he was nothin'..."

Riddick's black goggles remained blankly upon the man, but his lips peeled back in a snarl. The man sunk back against the wall, trying to get away from this monster of a man. Big Evil leaned in and growled out his next words.

"I got a message for you to give Randal..."

"Y-... Yeah, anything..." the gang member said.

Riddick shoved the shiv under the man's chin and up into his brain. Pulling out the shiv, he dragged the body to the middle of the street and brandished the shiv again. When he finished almost ten minutes later, it was as though the Cozart brothers had visited Daedalus. He found a faucet in one of the abandoned buildings by the walkway and rinsed the blood off his arms. His shirt was black, thankfully, and the blood wasn't very visible.

He headed back down the walkway and rode up to Deck 5. He went into the _Spirit_ and headed for the Medical Bay. Riddick grabbed the backup hypo-gun and loaded a Nano-Med Plus cartridge into it. He put the gun to his neck and pulled the trigger. The little pinch was better than Butcher Bay's antiquated units, which typically _shoved_ two spikes into your neck and harshly injected the nanites into you. Took away the hurt... left the pain. He could feel the tingle as the little machines zinged through his system and repaired the damage. Riddick logged his injuries and the cartridge he'd pulled.

After that, he changed clothes and headed back down the Deck 2. The rage had subsided, leaving him more capable of thinking straight, provided he didn't think of Kiara's acerbic insight. As he stalked down the street and through the Corridors, he took the time to take in the geography and make of Daedalus. Riddick spotted more than a few vents running along the floor, tracing up the wall at regular intervals, and then along the ceiling. That was interesting... He decided that it might be wise to look at a detailed map of the station--this just might come in handy.

* * *

A man paced back and forth in front of the major fuck-up before him. His displeasure practically rolled off him in waves. This livid man wore military fatigues in a black and grey camouflage pattern. The boots were military issue--black. His belt had a holster, which housed a pistol. A strap on his thigh held a combat knife in a sheath.

The man was just above lean, with a nourished and athletic figure. He had his bright, almost platinum-blonde hair shaved off everywhere but at the top, where he kept it cropped short and set forward. His hard, ice blue eyes raked over every element, missing nothing--daggers of cold crystal stabbing into everything.

...Not that there was much to see beyond the orderly appearance to the carnage.

"It's a fuckin' mess. Never seen anythin' like it. Fuckin' sick's what it is..."

"Yes, Nick, I can _see_ that," the man seethed, taking in the gruesome scene in front of him.

Nine bodies lay stretched out side-by-side, legs together and arms straight up, crossed at the wrists. All of them had a chunk of flesh carved from their neck. Someone cut off their tattoos and placed them in their hands... Blood was _everywhere_.

With the copious amounts of blood, it was a DNA nightmare--no chance of finding a sample to scan for whoever did this. He kicked the door to the building where the other Zolus where checking out where the blood trail led. When he followed, it led him to the lavatory. Randal stormed out to the street again. Nick followed him hastily.

The ex-merc began with a deceptive calm, "Someone came down to _my_ territory, killed nine of _my_ men, mutilated them, took the time to wash their hands in one of _my_ buildings, and left... But you have no idea who did it..."

Nick shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly, Randal had him by his shirt, hauling in close enough to see the anger-dilated pupils of his boss.

"You wanna tell me how the _fuck_ this happened and what you're gonna do about it?" he bellowed deafeningly at his Second.

Nick, to his credit, answered quickly, "We'll get 'im, Sir. We'll find 'im and tear 'im apart."

"You do that. ...And Nicholas..." he said, making the man refocus on Randal's face, "I want his _heart_. I want you to find him, kill him, and rip out his heart."

Nick just nodded, a little disturbed because he knew Randal meant that in a literal sense.

"Yeah... I-I mean, Yes, Sir."

Randal snarled as he shoved Nick backward and stalked away, "And get this fuckin' mess cleaned up!"

Nick watched him get some five paces away when the leader of the Zolus pulled up short. Randal marched back over to the scene and stared at the bodies, eyes slowly narrowing. He was silent for a full minute.

"What is it?" Nick asked.

"...It's a declaration of war..."

* * *

TUESDAY

Micah let Riddick back into the gang's den, where he moved over to the bedroom, which was really just a collection of cots separated from the rest of the hideaway by two pieces of sheet metal against a wall. The square section's 'door' consisted of some drapes on a cord strung from one piece of sheet metal to the other.

Jack was talking to the new members of the gang, Tyler, Veronica, and Robbie. Tyler was the 'chef,' and made their food-runs. He was Jack's age. They called him 'the chef' because he always had aspirations of going to a culinary arts school. His parents had died and he wound up in some shit-hole of an orphanage. That's where he met Veronica and Robbie.

At eight years old, Veronica was the current pickpocket of the gang. She had been in the orphanage since she was three. Robbie came in a couple years after her at the age of two. He was now six years old. After Tyler spent two years at the orphanage, he decided they were better off running away than sticking with the abusive, Patron Saint of Bitches (their words, not hers). He brought Veronica and Tyler with him.

Subsequently, they wound up on Daedalus. Jack could sympathize and gave them a vague rundown of her runaway from her Aunt and Uncle and winding up on Daedalus. She explained how she'd come across the gang and how she had come to find Kiara and Panny. After that, she gave Veronica a few tips on making pulls. It was at this point she noticed Riddick.

"Where've you been?" Jack asked, noting the small, fading bruise on his arm.

"Just catchin' some _Z_'s."

Jack frowned, "...What?"

Riddick was silent, he really hated to break this to her, but it was better now than a few days later--when she would expect to leave. Still, a few matters needed his _personal_ attention.

"We're probably sticking around Daedalus a little longer. There are a few loose ends I need to tie up."

Jack didn't say anything, just put her head on her knees and stared at the wall again. He leaned down, speaking lowly since the Tyler and the others were nearby.

"We'll leave. I never did like being locked up, got a habit of slippin' chains if you haven't noticed."

"...What, like Butcher Bay?" she asked calmly.

"If they couldn't hold me, what makes you think Daedalus has a chance? I can escape anything. _We'll leave._"

Jack smiled, just a little bit.

* * *

"What've you two been up to," Micah asked Jessie and Mike.

Jessie sipped at her tea and rubbed her eyes, "Us? Nothin'. It's the girl; 's like she's not human. Been goin' at it strong for an hour now, and I don't think she's aware we exist, anymore."

Just at that moment, a steady chime sounded once more and the buzzing frenzy of keystrokes halted in seconds. The girl came out from the little enclosure where the siblings kept their com. She stretched a bit and yawned. She paused next to them for a moment. Rachel took off her glasses and cleaned them on her shirt, then wiped her eyes free of the tears that formed to moisten her eyes after they had remained unblinking for so long.

"We found a way to improve your com's overall performance by two-hundred-fifty-six percent. I need something to eat. If you want the upgrade, ask one of the boys. We also wrote a program for you to send private, encrypted messages to our secure message box. I wrote down the password for access to the messages--the program will automatically decode the messages for you. I also gave you the password to the network so you can access it anytime. We'll stay in touch... I'll be back in a little."

Micah blinked as the girl wandered toward the exit.

"Is she a real person?"

"We're still out on that one," Mike said as he watched the short redhead.

Micah frowned, "What boys was she talking about?"

Jessie pointed toward the computer, "She has some incredibly advanced AI software. A bit scary, really."

For a moment, the blonde stared after the teenage genius. Another com-whiz she might be, but the girl was definitely not Jack and most definitely couldn't defend herself. He moved to the door and called out to her.

"Hey," he paused, waiting until she turned to face him expressionlessly, "You shouldn't walk about alone--it's not safe here."

The shell-like appearance of the girl slowly drained away to an actual person as Rachel blushed, realizing she was about to head out into the slums with nary a care. She forgot little things like that, sometimes. Probably would have worked right through breakfast if she hadn't set that alarm, which was exactly why she set it.

"Are you going to accompany me, then? I need food, either way..."

"Uhm..." Micah glanced back at the two hackers--it was his duty to guard their home.

Jessie made a shooing motion, "Go on, we'll be fine. You're not the only one that can pull a trigger if something happens."

He walked with the younger girl, easily keeping pace with her near meandering gait. She looked around, taking in things curiously, sometimes looking as though she would veer off in whatever direction she was looking just to see something or someone up close. But she never deviated from her bee-line to the spire, much to Micah's relief.

One thing he didn't understand was what this girl--hacker or no--was doing with Jack and Richard. The girl seemed too demure for keeping up with Jack and Richard. His thoughts on the girl broke off when she spoke.

"You know, there's easier ways to get information. Interrogation may be quite effective, but damaging to the maintenance of relationships... Why don't you just ask what's on your mind?"

Micah looked at her strangely, but acquiesced, "You know he's dangerous. Why do you--or Jack--stay with him?"

Rachel shrugged nonchalantly, "Jack has her own reasons; it's not my place to ask or tell. I, however, joined him because I felt it was the right thing to do. It was rough at the start, but we just needed to get used to each other. We're still learning, but I feel it will work out in the end."

The reached the elevator and rode up. Micah had never gone past Deck 4, the fact that guards were always on the lookout for people like him, so they could forcefully haul them back and take out their frustrations along the way. Rachel headed along the walkway on Deck 5; she intended to grab some OJ from the ship--its presence was noticeably lacking on Daedalus...

"He's still dangerous."

"Questions, Micah," she reminded.

"Is it safe with him?"

"For me? As long as I don't pose a threat to him, I should be fine. That's true of most people. He's not given to violent displays without reason. On the other hand, it wouldn't do to forget that he _is_ dangerous. For Jack, I suppose that fact is a comfort. She told me she was safer with him than with anyone else. One thing I noticed is that Richard is dangerous _for_ himself... and for Jack.

"If people left him alone, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't need to be dangerous. You'll have to realize that anyone and everyone can be dangerous in some manner--and for different reasons.

"If you don't already understand by now, then look at it from Jack's point of view. It shouldn't be hard. I've never met one of the Zolus gang members and even I am afraid of them. If one showed up, I would want to be with the strongest, scariest, most dangerous person I could find."

Micah accepted that much very readily, "He certainly is that, isn't he?"

Rachel nodded, "Like I said, he's dangerous for reasons... for himself... and for Jack."

"What is it with them?"

It had been eating at him ever since Richard appeared. There was something--some kind of connection--that he couldn't see... and it worried him. A guy like that wasn't the type of person he would like associating with Jack.

"Jack has been through a lot, Micah. Probably more than either you or I know... But when she needed him the most, Richard saved her. He saved her by being the dangerous person that he is."

She refused to say more on that subject.

* * *

They reached the ship and Rachel put in her access code. As the ramp descended, she yawned again. She plodded into the ship and headed for the galley. As she pulled out some orange-pineapple juice from the cryo-storage locker, Minos notified her.

"Aeacus, your supply of juice is low."

Micah jumped.

"I know. I'll get some when we go planet-side. Do I have enough for a week or so?"

"Yes," it replied.

She nodded and went to the food-prep machine and popped in a ham, eggs, hash, and biscuits and gravy box. A counter started at eight minutes. While it hummed its process, she balefully wondered if sleep would be possible anytime today. Rachel wasn't built for less than six hours of sleep. In fact, were it not for her alarm, she was pretty sure she could sleep fourteen hours easy.

"Is that the artificial intelligence Jessie and Mike were talking about?"

"Artificial _Intellgences_," Rhadamanthus' slithering voice emphasized in correction.

Micah tensed again. Fucking disembodied voices did _not_ lend to a sense of security!

"Mhm. Minos and Rhad're dual-run..." she paused for another yawn and sat at the table while she waited on her breakfast, "...self-learning programs. They seek out information to improve their functionality. They found the voice-program and chose their own voices, too."

"...That is fucking freaky."

"An interesting choice of adjective," replied Minos, "Human nature seems to involve inventing things to destroy other Humans and those unlike them. They fear what they do not understand, and they hate what they fear. Humans kill what they hate. Perhaps Humans are freaky?"

He turned toward Rachel, "I think it's arguing with me. Is that normal?"

She had fallen asleep hunched over with her head resting on her folded arms. Micah sighed. He milled about the unfamiliar surroundings and, eventually, found Jack's room. He wasn't sure, at first--thought it was Richard's room. It was as good way as any to get some insight on the man, right? When he'd opened up the drawer of the nightstand, he'd found some twelve shivs--all of them hand-made.

He saw the two, plain, synthetic leather sheaths for some very intricately worked blades. One was just plain menacing, with broad curves and a serrated back end. Instead of terminating in a sharp tip, it swung back around into a hook. Micah didn't want to ponder what she was thinking when she made that feature. He realized it _had_ to be Jack's room when he slid it back into the sleeve, once again noting the words written in a black, thick-tipped, permanent marker on the brown material:

'_Big Evil_'

Yes, he could see why she would have named it that... In addition to simply being broad and long, it was devastatingly wicked.

The second shiv was thinner, and maybe an inch shorter than _Big Evil_. It was no less wicked, however. From the center of the blade, small, alternating bulges crested out in a serpentine fashion. There were two swells to each side, and each crest terminated in a hilt-facing point, almost like the shape of a curved arrowhead. This, he realized, would make it slide into to an opponent easier, but would lacerate them horribly on the way out. Shaking his head, he slid that one back into its labeled sheath:

'_Lesser Evil_'

Micah rolled his eyes. The lesser of two evils... Only Jack would come up with something so morbidly amusing. Deciding that he should stop snooping about Jack's room, he returned to the galley. He still felt like he was intruding with his mere presence. The ship was _nice_, not a vessel he would ever be able to afford riding in...

He sat back at the table and looked at the zonked redhead. Maybe he should wake her so she could eat... As if on cue, the food-prep machine dinged.

Rachel jerked upright, "Forty-two!"

Micah raised a brow. Rachel suddenly blushed as she realizing where she was. She muttered something and quickly left for the kitchen, she could feel her ears on fire. When she returned with her meal, she looked marginally less embarrassed.

"What was that about?"

"Just... kinda dreamed that I had to answer a question," she mumbled, tucking into her food.

Micah raised the other eyebrow, "What was the question?"

Shaking her head, Rachel doodled a random pattern in the air with her fork, "The meaning of life, the universe, and everything..."

He stared at her.

She became embarrassedly indignant, "I didn't say it made sense!"

* * *

Rachel said she would be staying in her room on the _Spirit_ rather than the apartment on Deck 7; her explanation was that she could catch a few hours of _good_ sleep. Micah went back to the den, deciding he'd spent enough time puttering about with the redhead. She'd given him some food for thought, but it would take a while to digest. When he checked on Sebastian, he found Jack had fallen asleep against the wall by the cot. He reached out for her.

"Let her be."

Micah whipped around to find Riddick leaning up against the wall, practically hidden in some dark corner, as though he'd just wrapped himself in shadows. The man's arms were crossed and expression on his face unreadable because the goggles were down. He seemed to finally focus on Micah, though it was hard to tell without the eye contact.

"Who's running this flock while Sebastian's down?"

Micah shrugged, "Technically, I am... but Kiara's the one that holds everyone together. Most of us look to her; even Seb from time to time."

'_Fuck._'

She was the last person he wanted to speak to, much less _see_, right now. But this superseded how he felt about the woman. He was putting to rest a _long_-standing issue. She seemed to have some kind of altruism-pointing moral compass. Or something. Riddick didn't need justification and wasn't about to start examining or explaining himself for her habit of picking people's brains. She disliked the killing thing; thought that just because he saved Jack and the Holy Man that he was some kind of misguided hero...

Well fuck that. He was and always would be a killer... he was almost drawn to death, in a manner of speaking. There was nothing more beautiful to him than a pure, unadulterated predator. He'd seen predators; and they were monsters. They preyed upon anyone and anything without a second thought. Only his animal side--that basest survival instinct--kept him from crossing the threshold, kept him alive when he got too close to one of those predators. Just because he wasn't a monster didn't mean he'd ever stop being a killer; it was too hard-wired into his being.

* * *

Richard's expression seemed to darken when he mentioned Kiara. Shit. Micah shifted uncomfortably. Probably had something to do with that little chat they had before the man went off to wherever. But he wasn't about to ask--he liked his head on his shoulders. He couldn't seem to find the lighter side of Richard; the one not constantly edgy. It was as if the man only had darkness within him, no safe qualities.

But that couldn't be totally true; Jack wouldn't have gone with someone like him unless there was some kind of redeeming quality... something that made her want go to Richard when she was in trouble, so he could '_be dangerous_' for her. It only made Micah more resolute to watch the man when he was around, to try to figure him out. Maybe he was missing something.

When the man moved soundlessly away from Micah, even though the blonde was watching and listening, he still couldn't make out the man's footsteps. Maybe Richard wasn't totally dark, but still fucking freaky. He didn't have time to ponder it further since Jessie came up to him.

"You won't _believe_ what that AI's doing! It's put the old clunker com almost on par with modern coms..."

* * *

Riddick moved over to the woman, drawing her attention away from Robbie. She glanced up at him and he tilted his head toward the doorway. It appeared they were to have another talk. He didn't wait for her, just walked away. After a few seconds, she left Robbie in Tyler's care and moved toward the doorway.

She stood there, leaning against the wall opposite him as she had the first time. He had done the same. For several moments, he was quiet.

"...The shit's gonna hit the fan, soon. Zolus are gonna be up in a stir."

She stared hard at him, "What did you do? Did you kill a Zolus?"

"One or nine..."

"_Nine_?" she exclaimed.

Riddick shook his head, "That ain't the point. I know who's leading the Zolus."

"What does it matter-"

Before she could enter a tirade, he cut her off, "Shut up."

He took a few steps forward, cutting the distance between them in half. His voice lowered; deepened and became more menacing.

"I said I _know_ the man. We got some unfinished business."

"If you start something with the Zolus, the whole station's going to hell in a hand basket, Riddick. The Zolus will come down on everyone!"

"Not my problem. Not my fight. Once I'm done with him, I'm gone."

She glared, "So you're going to jeopardize this entire station for _revenge_?"

"Revenge? He's just the one that got away," he said. Then Riddick moved closer to her again until he was practically filling her vision. He growled sinisterly, "I'm gonna find Randal and carve out his _heart_!"

Until this moment, she hadn't seen much of Riddick other than an aloof nature and his brief moment of anger--which had apparently led to the deaths of nine Zolus. But this seemed to be the first true emotion she'd seen since meeting him. His silver eyes gleamed cold and piercingly. The hate boiling underneath was a sibilant hiss preceding the explosion.

Kiara didn't know what exactly would happen, but she didn't want to be anywhere near Riddick when he went off...

"Killing him won't change anything..."

Riddick shrugged. No, it wouldn't; but it'd be damn satisfying. His answer was as apathetic as his thoughts, "He's already dead... he just doesn't know it, yet."

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

I meant to get this up with Chapter 14 for a double feature for you, but it didn't happen. Something was missing. I spent the weekend and the better part of Monday trying to figure it. I managed, though. I think I accomplished what I wanted.

Riddick killing the Zolus (and subsequent butchery) wasn't intended to be artful or tactful at all. In previous fights, Riddick has been restrained and careful, measuring and damningly collected. This fight was meant to be rawer, even sadistic. Kiara pissed off Riddick and he needed to vent--the Zolus were a convenient opponent. The fact that they were Zolus had little to do with my decision in the fight--it just seemed like a good way to meander into Randal's return. It could have easily been anyone that was stupid enough to step in front of him.

I won't glorify Riddick, as I've seen some stories do. They redeem him, make him some sort of badass heroic... Batman or something. An avenger of injustices and all that. But Riddick enjoys killing. We can't say he doesn't. Something about it thrills him and if I denied him that, I'd be smearing his character.

We also have some insight into Kiara, Micah, and a tad more Rachel. I've been told that keeping up with characters can be confusing. I'm aware of that there are a lot of minor characters--and I tend to make sure they are well thought out. While these characters (such as Jack's gang, Lynne, J.J., etc.) are more than a plot device, you probably shouldn't linger too greatly on them. Yes, I'll be getting back to most of the minor characters, but the story is about a few set characters... Namely, Jack, Riddick, and Rachel. There's a couple more main characters yet to be introduced--but you'll meet them soon enough.

Until then, I hope you continue to enjoy my spinning. I still have a huge ball of yarn left!

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	16. 16: Beware the GreenEyed Monster

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 16: Beware the Green-Eyed Monster_

Time passed slowly that day. Jack kept up vigilance over Sebastian, helping Kiara with the medication and talking with Sebastian during his rare bouts of painless consciousness. The good news was that Sebastian would probably be up in four or five days. But they would have to keep the up the Nano-Med administrations for almost a week afterward until the drug ran its course and stopped its rampage. Jack knew she'd likely be gone by then, so she wanted to get in as much time with him as possible.

Rachel spent the time trying to find out where the credits from previous imposters' thefts had gone. Her mind simply wouldn't let it go. She interspersed this with idle conversation with Jessie and Mike. There was no news on the imposters' arrest, so she figured nothing had happened, yet. C4sper said to watch the news nets for word on it. She didn't feel comfortable talking to the former Riddler in front of the other two for reasons she couldn't explain. Rachel felt as though she was betraying some manner of trust when others were watching her...

Riddick listened for all of half a minute before everything went clear over his head. The last thing he remembered was a discussion over 'circumventing the V-ID query by substituting a...' something. The three spoke in a strange language only they knew.

In the end, he wound up returning to the _Spirit_ to check on any messages about trade agreements. He deleted the messages about a quarter-off coupon for a luggage set produced by Company, an offer for a free-trial one-month supply of a male enhancement pill with a name he couldn't pronounce, and a congratulations for winning a five-day, four-night trip to the '_gorgeous Sparkling Beach Resort on Aquarius Prime_.' All he had to do was '_CLICK NOW!!_'

He then turned his attention to a detailed map of the station. Cerberus was more than happy to provide him with access to the mainframe. It seemed that the ventilation followed an easy pattern, four-way intersections at the top and bottom of each Corridor. They went up, down, and side to side all around the station. They all attached to one of the maintenance shafts at some point, which meant one could also travel between decks in this way. He'd used such shafts before to his supreme advantage in Butcher's. Maybe he could do some reconnaissance on Deck 3 without anyone being the wiser...

With a grunt of satisfaction, he turned off the com system and decided he should get Jack. He didn't like it that Jack was staying on Deck 2 for any length of time, especially when the Zolus were bound to start looking for him. It wasn't likely that they would do a DNA sweep and find Jack, but he hadn't survived this long by taking unnecessary chances. He rode the elevator down and traced the path through the back-alley yet again. The people squatting in the back-alley still eyed him suspiciously even though he'd come by several times. Wise of them...

He found Jack toying with a new shiv. He'd never seen her make one, save the time he taught her. She was putting details into it almost lovingly, mesmerized by the process. After a few moments, she held it up and inspected it as the light glinted off the blade. She smirked a tad and motioned to the girl sitting by Sebastian. Pandora scooted over to Jack and looked at the blade. They talked quietly for a moment, likely about the shiv since Jack kept pointing to different parts of it. Pandora said something and Jack laughed. In the end, she passed the weapon to the girl.

"I don't like that she's giving my daughter weapons. If I'm not mistaken, you're the one that taught her to make them," said Kiara from behind him.

He hadn't heard her approach--too focused on Jack. Riddick didn't let it show.

"Jack was about her age when she needed a weapon. Bein' dragged into a dark alley by a Zolus. Lucky she snagged a screwdriver. Probably woulda never happened if she'd had a shiv in the first place... Weren't for Jack, your girl'd be dead by now."

The mouse had wandered over somewhere during his explanation.

"It might not look like it, but Jack's giving her the chance she never had," the redhead said, "She only wants your daughter to be safe and feel less afraid. If you're going to take it away... don't do it in front of Jack, that would hurt her."

Pandora saw her mother standing outside the bedroom and jumped to her feet. She ran over to show Kiara the shiv that Jack had made for her. She jerked to a stop when Jack yelled at her.

"Panny! Don't run with that!"

It sounded absurdly strange coming from the brunette, but she knew as well as anyone else that running around with knives out--unless you knew what you were doing (and even then)--was a dangerous thing to do. The same warning had been on Kiara's lips and it almost surprised her that Jack beat her to it. Then again, she supposed just because Jack had been taught many dangerous things, it didn't mean she was careless. It was easy to fall into stereotypes and she reminded herself that neither Riddick nor Jack could fit easily into any category...

Pan came up to Kiara, at a walk this time, and held it out for her mother to see.

"Jack calls it 'The Box.' I don't get why an' she just _laughed_ about it," she huffed, "She says there's a secret inside it, too. She won't tell me what! I haven't figured it out, yet..."

Kiara just smiled. When Pan was younger, she hadn't felt it appropriate to tell the mostly dismal story of Pandora. She never really got around to it... She took the knife from her daughter and stared at it. She examined it closely; as far as she could tell, it had started as a single chunk of metal. Now there were ornate curves and little carvings into it, with what looked like a face on the hilt--no, a skull. A skull with fangs, and no bottom jaw; the blade replaced that, glinting in the light, a silver tongue of the devil.

There were arcing prongs, two on either side of the skull, forming the guard. The blade was double-edged. The handle, though, she remembered had been made cylindrical. This one had spiral striations cut into it, but was no thinner than it had been for all she'd shaved from it. Logically, that didn't make sense. Near the pommel, there was a line where two pieces of metal met...

"Look on the bottom, Pan."

The girl stared at the shiv and toyed with it for a moment. Jack got up and joined them, then. Riddick wasn't one to idly stand around and make conversation with other people, in spite of the talks she shared with him. Something had to be up. But was it a good something or a bad something?

Moments later, Pan rotated the bottom of the pommel out on an internal hinge and slid out a tube of cloth. She carefully unwrapped the cloth into a long, rectangular 'pocket'. Inside this fold, she found various tools that could pick a variety of locks and sealed things. Pan had mentioned her hobby in picking things--being a good-eye often left her with plenty of downtime just watching and listening.

She would frequently sit with her tools and some lock that had fallen off a door or a piece of hardware Jessie and Mike no longer used. She practiced picking and taking things apart without looking. Jack had asked to borrow her tools for a moment and she hadn't seen them for nearly two hours, though Jack never used them.

Jack had used a broken, metal mug to make a cap. The tools put the weigh a little bit off, but she never intended Pan to throw it; it was her only line of defense. She smiled at Pan's noise of joy.

"I didn't like the weight, so I hollowed it and wrapped it with a new handle for weight."

Pan hugged Jack, "I love it!"

"I'm glad," she said, ruffling Pan's hair a bit.

Her eyes met briefly with Riddick, silently curious about what he needed. She received a brief confirmation in a sort of half-nod, half-tilt of the escaped convict's head. While Pan went on about the gift to her mother, Kiara watched the two have a non-verbal conversation. Jack sidled closer and Riddick bent down just slightly.

"Zolus are gonna be nosing around," he muttered.

"What did you _do_?" she whisper-hissed back.

"Killed a few. I know their leader. I'm gonna kill him, too."

Jack barely managed to keep herself from exclaiming for everyone in the Corridor to hear. As it was, her eyes enlarged until the whites practically dominated her sockets.

"_Riddick_!" she asked, her voice pitching high.

He put a hand on her shoulder, "Just keep your head down and it'll be an in-and-out job. I'll keep it quiet."

Her eyes turned up to him, full of worry, "But... it's the Zolus. They're about as close to monsters as we'll find..."

"I kill monsters, remember?"

Jack leaned against him a bit, slightly mollified. She felt a gentle squeeze to her shoulder and she nodded. The girl would trust him on this; she always trusted him.

* * *

From behind them, Rachel watched silently and observed the interactions. People were interesting to her. So many dynamics came into play and the uniqueness of everyone added an unpredictable flavor to the mix. While Rachel disliked surprises, she liked watching things unfold in ways she did not foresee; almost like a novel, but better.

Riddick finally moved away from Jack and the brunette turned around to watch where he was going. The man passed Rachel and both she and Kiara glanced between the killer and the street rat. Suddenly, Rachel understood.

Jack's expression was blank until his back was turned, then her eyes burned with a quiet ire. Her arms crossed and her jaw worked her clenched teeth. Rachel wondered if Jack was going to retreat somewhere again and fume as she had last time. Verdant orbs cut to the side, half-considering something... her stance shifted back and forth. In the end, the girl's arms dropped and she stalked cat-quiet out the door after Riddick.

Rachel blinked, brows raised.

Kiara came up behind her, "What just happened there?"

The redhead turned slightly to meet the woman's eyes, "A very green-eyed monster."

* * *

Jack hung back at the mouth of Corridor C, peering around it at Riddick's retreating form. She watched as he moved past Corridor E and beyond. He bypassed Corridor F and headed into Section 2. She made sure to hang back at least two Corridors behind him, never directly in sight. She wasn't sure why she was doing this--again--but she was tired of watching him walk away from her and off to someone else.

Businesses had bought up all the apartments down here, which was why there were so many people in the streets and Corridors. Riddick turned into one of the apartment buildings on H-I Block. A sign out front proclaimed it as _Madame Marian's Roses_. Jack didn't think for a second that Marian was a florist. She ducked into Corridor H, beside a dumpster as he headed inside. She quietly listened to the bustle-about of other people and quietly simmered in her own indecision over whether this was such a good idea.

During her hour-and-a-half wait outside, two other patrons entered and Jack spent her time in varying states of anger, jealousy, and embarrassment as she thought of what Riddick might be doing inside--in graphic, burning-blush detail. The door opened--from the inside, and she listened. She heard nothing... and that meant it was him. She quickly scuttled behind the dumpster. His shadow bled into the Corridor as he passed. She waited almost half a minute before peaking out from the alley. He was just beyond Corridor G and still going.

Jack waited almost five minutes, debating to go inside or not. In the end, the young woman moved out from the Corridor and, after taking a deep breath for confidence, pushed open the door to _Madame Marian's Roses_.

* * *

Marian opened the bolted down locker beneath the counter and inserted the register's master-chip into the profits box. She closed the small locker and the DNA lock turned red again. She opened her books and marked down the 3,920 UDs into the ledger. She looked up at the person that entered, and the standard greeting died on her lips.

The young girl that entered looked awkward and ill placed in this setting, but she took in her surroundings with a curiosity that showed little tact. The girl's eyes landed on her, at last; intense, intelligent, green eyes quietly assessed her. She was having difficulty reading this girl, and Marian made a job out of reading people. The woman wondered what the girl was thinking of her, with her black hair; piercing, deep blue eyes; and in her long-sleeve, burgundy dress. Charcoal lace-adorned cuffs and tiny frills of the same color ran along the bust and the bottom of the dress. The black embroidery of rose patterns on the dress made her stand out over the surroundings.

Then the eyes were off her, seemingly dropping her from scrutiny as her perusal of the place took her attention again. The establishment had decorative panels overlaying the metallic surfaces that made the floor look like genuine oak. The panels likewise disguised the tables and chairs as lacquered, dark, mahogany surfaces. On every table, there was a wax candle in a tiny glass jar and a small vase holding two, blood-red roses. There was white latticework on the windows, with some wisteria hung over and along its sides. The beaming, harsh-white, overhead lights had been replaced with a small, faux-candle chandelier that gave off an ambient glow of warm colors.

The last thing she noticed was the scent. She inhaled deeply, slowly... but not noisily. There was a light scent that filled the air; pleasant and relaxing, not an assault on her senses like Imam's incense he would sometimes light during his prayer. She never said anything, but it stunk up the whole house. Whatever it was, it assuaged her jangled nerves by a small margin. She idly wondered what it was, but didn't feel like taking the time to figure it out. There was too much on her mind to focus on something so trivial.

Marian was beginning to get curious, herself. The girl obviously wasn't here as a patron--there weren't many girls that came here for service and Shelly's shift had ended two hours ago. It didn't appear as though she was here for a job either, since she was simply moving slowly about and looking at the place rather than approaching her with a proposition. She wasn't inclined to employing someone this young, anyway.

The girl didn't look like a working girl, anyway--decidedly tomboyish. She wore some thick, grey boots. On top of that obvious statement, her clothing was less than flattering of her female figure: a dark grey, long-sleeve shirt and a pair of navy blue pants that weren't faded and surprisingly didn't have holes in them. She didn't look native to Daedalus. Yet, the cautiousness, the critical eye seemed to lend to the fact that she was at least used to her surroundings.

"Can I help you?" she finally asked.

Jack took her time, staring at the faux-candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It did lend a sort of comfortable feel to the place, not at all a dump. It was like a slice out of the history books. Everything looked tastefully old-world. The woman's question reminded her why she was here... sort of.

"...I was..." Jack paused. She had no idea what she was doing. The brunette tried again, "That man that just came in--big guy, bald, welding goggles... Um, can I speak with the woman..."

The girl trailed off. How was the best way to ask to talk to the woman Riddick just fucked? She didn't want to sound insulting and that was something Jack excelled at... Hence her problem.

'_Oh,_' thought Marian. Best to stop her here before any problems arose.

"He's his own person. You got a problem with his habits, take it up with him."

"If he has to take care of himself, that's fine with me... I just-" Jack said with a shrugged and glanced about for half a second. She blushed a bit and muttered, "Actually, I hadn't thought this far ahead..."

"So this isn't some jealous run-about?"

The girl's eyes switched back to Marian and widened; her blush spread through her ears and down her neck. Well, wasn't that curious...

"It's not like that... not really."

"But you _are_ jealous."

It wasn't a statement. Jack's eyes moved off to focus on a candle sitting on one of the tables; felt like her face was mimicking it. She was becoming extremely uncomfortable. Maybe this was a bad idea. It would probably be best just to save face and leave.

Marian sighed, "I'll tell you what. I'll see if Lauren has some spare time. If she feels up to it, you can talk to her. You're not going to start any trouble, are you?"

"No..."

With a nod, she put a hand on the girl's back--the muscles twitched spasmodically, as though the she'd fought down some trained response--and urged her to sit one of the tables.

"Just sit here for a moment, I'll check on Laruen."

Jack sat down and stared at the candle while Marian left to speak with the woman. The whole placed smelled faintly of apple-cinnamon. Sitting there, she found the scent stronger, as it originated from the candles sitting at the tables. Idly, she traced her fingers back and forth over the flame, just long enough to feel the warmth and make the conflagration dance from side to side.

* * *

"Girl? Jealous lover? You know I don't deal with those sorts of things, Marian."

"Not a jealous lover and not looking for trouble. Apparently has no idea why she's here. I think you should talk to her," Marian returned with something close to a smirk.

Lauren rolled her eyes and finished tearing off the sheets from her bed. She stuffed them down the laundry chute. The closet had several sets of identical sheets. She grabbed a new set and tossed them on the bed.

"So this girl... what's she like?"

"Blunt. A little tactless, if you ask me. And confused--but she's very intelligent. I wouldn't suggest trying to pull the wool over her eyes."

From below, they heard the door burst open and slam against the wall. Lauren look at Marian, who grimaced. She knew the woman hated that. Scratched the decorative panels. And then they heard something that made them both wince.

"Good evening," a cultivated, falsely aristocratic voice said, "Madame, line the fairies up for me!"

"Fuck," Lauren muttered, "Is it already twenty-third hour?"

They shared looked of exasperation. There was only one flamboyantly boisterous, obnoxious, altogether annoying customer that ever said things like that. A simultaneous name left them.

"...Andre."

* * *

When the door slammed open, Jack leapt from her seat so fast that her retreating hand snuffed the candle. She stared aghast at the man before her. He wore an almost neon purple shirt, looked fancy. It probably had a weird brand name, too. Moreover, he had on a pair of tight, black leather pants and old-style cowboy boots. They were black, as well, and shined almost reflectively. His hair looked _prettier_ than hers...

"Uh," she said, off guard. Then the very next thing that entered her mind popped out her mouth before she could stop it, "I think there's only one fairy here... and I'm standing in front of it."

"Oh, you wound me, little one--but you can tenderly tend to my wounds..." Andre said lecherously, approaching her.

Jack eyes seemed to catch fire and harden, "Not on the menu, guy."

"Ah, but I am here and I have the money... You cannot turn me away; it would not be good business."

She crossed her arms and continued to glare. The man was really starting to grate on her nerves. Her temper flared.

"I'm _busy_. Go jack off in the corner or somethin'."

"You little strumpet," he said his right hand already sailing through the air to slap her.

She checked the hand, shoving it to her right hand, where she grabbed his wrist. Scowling at her, he tried to punch her face in with his other hand. She nabbed that wrist with her other hand. With his arms crisscrossed, Jack twisted his arms at as though she were turning a great wheel, with his interlocked elbows as the fulcrum. Andre followed the twisting motion, thrown for a spin until he was on the ground. A boot landed on his throat, putting just enough pressure to show that Jack meant business.

Marian and Lauren heard a thump and quickly came to the steps. They paused at the railing and found an interesting sight. Jack had Andre at her mercy, staring down at him with eyes that held a cold fury.

"No touching."

The man lay still, not wanting to give her any reason to step down on his neck.

The pressure on her boot increased just slightly, "Do you understand?"

Andre rasped, "Yeah. Yeah, I understand..."

"Then _say_ it!" she demanded.

"No touching, I understand!"

"Then we're good," she said and moved her boot off his neck.

The man stumbled to his feet quickly and turned to Jack; his face was red and he looked impotently furious. Jack leaned closer, tapping a shiv _very_ high on his inner thigh. He smelled horrible--some kind of cloying cologne. She braved it.

"You were just leaving..."

"Yeah, yeah--I was just leaving," he affirmed, nodding convulsively with his eyes fixated on the blade, and pulled away. He was out the door in moments.

Jack sighed in exasperation and ran her fingers through her hair. She inspected her shiv and grimaced. The girl obsessively wiped it against her pants several times. She'd seen Riddick threaten Johns in that manner, but she couldn't stand the thought of one of the sister blades actually touching the guy, either. Jack slipped the shiv away and turned toward the table again.

"Shit... Fuckin' stupid-" she froze, noticing the two women staring at her from the stairwell.

She blushed again--damnit, this had to stop! And they were _still_ staring at her. Finally, feeling the urge to justify herself, she pointed toward the door.

"He started it..."

Lauren leaned over to Marian and quoted lowly, "'A little tactless,' you said?"

"Perhaps we should get her out of the lobby before something else happens..."

"Why don't you come with me," she called out to the brunette.

"...Okay."

As Jack plodded up the steps and walked with Lauren to the room, Marian went back to the man (woman?) the desk. They might actually get a favorable patron at some point. She listened to the beginning of the conversation between the girl and Lauren.

"You know, that's not the kind of treatment we usually give customers."

"Yeah, well... he got fucked, just not the way he intended."

Lauren laughed. Marian shook her head, but grinned anyway.

* * *

The room was... nice. Kind of like her room at Imam's. But definitely geared toward a woman. There were knickknacks of feminine things and touches here and there that Jack supposed were the norm for typical girls. The dresser drawers probably had more dresses, makeup, and styling equipment. Most of her drawers had been full of nondescript pants and shirts--and one of them was full of shivs. There were even drapes around the bed...

The bed.

Barely within the room, Jack paused, staring at that piece of furniture. It had satiny sheets, a rather thick mattress; looked comfortable. Then again, people probably wouldn't fuck in it if it wasn't. Only some fifteen minutes ago, Riddick had been in it... She could feel her face heat up at where those thoughts led her. Goddamnit, this sort of thing had to stop or it might become permanent!

Lauren watched while she leaned against the door, "So you don't have a problem with what happened here with your-"

"No, no problem," she interrupted with a slight frown, "...and he's not mine."

"Uh...huh... So what's this all about?" Lauren said, trying to get a feel for the girl's intentions.

Jack looked at the woman. Strawberry blonde hair, violet eyes... Her face was soft and she _filled_ her turquoise dress with her appealing curves. The woman was gorgeous and the brunette instantly felt a flare of jealousy mixed with a dying hope. If Riddick liked this kind of woman, and Jack didn't look anything like the woman, what were her chances? Her eyes moved away and back to the bed. ...Not much better of a focal point.

"Just... The guy you were just... um... _with_..."

"Yeah?" Lauren prodded.

Jack gave up and sank into a chair in front of a broad dressing table, "I dunno. This was so _stupid_. I don't know why I followed him here..."

Jack crossed her arms broodingly, trying to understand the thought process that brought her here and only becoming more frustrated. The table had an expanse of perfumes, make up, and tools that looked like torture devices. There were at least three brushes among various pronged or teethed things with handles.

Lauren went over to the bed and sat down on it, watching the girl. She'd never really had any encounters like this one. Marian hadn't been kidding when she said the girl was confused. What did the woman expect her to do with the kid?

"I have an idea. Stop focusing on why you came. What was it you wanted to find here?"

Jack was quiet for a moment. Snagged up a pair of trimming scissors and twirled it about her fingers. Helped her think. Lauren observed the dexterity and her thoughts went back to the knife the girl had briefly wielded. Hm, not at all what she appeared; the girl had an understated beauty about her, slightly less subtle was her aura of lethality.

"I was just... curious. I mean... what's he--er--what's it like?" Jack said, correcting just a tad too late to make her feel any less self-conscious.

"I think... that's something you should discover with him."

Jack gripped the scissors like a weapon and Lauren tensed slightly. The girl suddenly looked angry. Putting the scissors aside, Jack crossed her arms again and seemed to tuck in on herself.

"That's not gonna _happen_. He doesn't even look at me. Not _that_ way, anyhow."

'_I believe I'm beginning to see the problem, here..._' Lauren thought. She nodded to the girl's statement, "But you want it to happen--you want him to look at you that way."

Jack blushed, feeling childish and hating how she felt the woman perceived her, "_No_. Well, yes, but... ...maybe."

Lauren smiled a bit, "...I might be able to help you. Tell you what, if you want him to _maybe_ pay attention to you, here's what you could do..."

* * *

"So you're saying Jack and Richard..."

Rachel shook her head, "It's kind of horribly one-sided. The way she explained it was that they met when she was twelve. He's not seeing how much she's grown, in the sense of being female. But in one form or another, I believe she's always been attracted to him."

Kiara nodded at that, "And he regularly goes to these brothels, you say."

"Jack said he gets grumpy if he doesn't. Probably starts to feel pent up and caged in. And Rick is a very... _vigorous_... person," Rachel said with a hint of exasperated embarrassment.

She knew what Jack meant now. He was vigorous. Vigorous, strict, and a little sadistic when it came to training.

"I understand," Kiara said, "but he can't ignore her forever. After what you told me, it sounds like Jack's eventually going to hit her limit."

"Probably. He did this on Sunday, too. And Jack was still upset about it Monday morning... and she locked herself in her room. I told him it was a 'girl mood.' And you know what he says? 'Jack doesn't _get_ girl moods.' Like it was unthinkable that Jack was female!"

Kiara snorted lightly, "You have to understand, it probably makes him uncomfortable thinking of Jack in that light. He most likely wants to keep her protected; his little charge. If she were suddenly elevated to something beyond that, I don't think he'd know how to handle her. It _would_ be a huge change in the dynamic of their current, platonic relationship."

Rachel canted her head slightly to the side, "I guess it would be..."

* * *

"What do you mean, _make_ him notice me? I swear those fucking goggles work like blinders."

Lauren chuckled, "Men are often slow on the pick-up, but they're not blind. And, they can be very primal. Almost like animals."

"He _is_ an animal," Jack muttered.

"I mean that they're territorial. You might not notice it at times, but it's there. You have to press those buttons. He probably sees you as 'his,' but not in the manner that you want. So look for the attention you want from him in other places."

Jack frowned, "But... I don't _want_ attention from anybody else."

"Oh, I just meant as a means to an end. You don't actually have to _want_ the attention--you shouldn't even have to try too hard to get him all riled. If he's like most men, he'll feel like his control over you is breaking; he'll try to fix that attention on himself--to get that 'control' back, which is exactly what you want."

"You mean like when I feint with one hand to get him to dodge one way so I can hit him with a real punch with the other..."

Lauren raised a brow, but she affirmed slowly, "Uh... _yeah_... I think. Kind of like that..."

The girl blinked. Well that made an awkward, but plausible sort of sense... Maybe she would try it. However, just like their spars, timing was everything. Now wasn't that time--but she could plan. When the time came, she would be ready.

* * *

Riddick had taken the time to shower before he went back to check on Jack. Maybe he could get her to return to the apartment tonight--he didn't like it that she spent so much time in Deck 2, even if it was just keeping watch over Sebastian. When he got there, Jack was nowhere to be found. He glanced to the mouse, who didn't seem concerned. Kiara was gone, as well, probably working.

He decided to stick around and wait for Jack. Fifteen minutes. If she wasn't back in fifteen minutes, Riddick was searching for her. The escaped convict had told her the Zolus would be in unrest, he didn't want her roaming around when he had no idea where she could be or what might be happening.

After the day's gratifications (both violent _and_ carnal), Big Evil was feeling sated, more relaxed. He wouldn't chew her out... this time. That would just destroy the calm he'd cultivated. Kiara had done a number on his thoughts and, for a while, they'd spun around like crazy--even after he'd killed those stupid fucks.

Now that he considered things more clearly, he understood that Kiara was--in her own way--trying to help. She was probably used to obedience and attention with all these kids around her. Riddick decided to see what he could do about finding someone to help put Jack back together, though he doubted there would be much time for it with their hectic always-on-the-move lives. It would certainly take a huge load off his mind--and Jack's. ...But if the woman ever spoke to him like that again, he'd snap her neck.

* * *

Jack came down to stand by the front desk, waiting while Marian tended to a client. The women were lined up and the man was currently in the process of making a decision. The moment the man noticed her, his attention seemed to fixate on her. She didn't get it. She couldn't be _that_ desirable--Rachel had to spend almost a whole day getting her dresses, stylists for her hair and nails, and all that shit just to make her look beautiful for _one night_.

Riddick never seemed to notice her even when she was beautiful, why did these guys notice her when she wasn't? For that matter, she couldn't figure what it was they saw in her. It bothered her, slightly--he was better than any other male she'd ever known, so why couldn't he see what they so easily saw? The more she thought about it, the more determined it made her to use Lauren's advice. It also made her angrier.

She retrieved her shiv and idly rubbed her thumb over the sister blade almost lovingly, "If you wanna keep those eyes, keep 'em off of me."

There would be no more repeats of the fairy-man, tonight.

Marian cleared her throat lightly, "Why don't you have a seat over there, again..."

Jack returned to the table with the candle--Marian must have relit it while she had been talking with Lauren. She stuffed her shiv away and leaned closer to inhale the candle's aroma. She really liked it. Maybe she could find one for her room on the ship...

Marian directed the man's attention away from Jack and safely back to her staff. It didn't take long, and soon the red-clad Madame came over to her. She carried two cups of tea. Jack tried to smile innocently and disarmingly. It didn't quite work, but it proved to Marian that the girl didn't intentionally go around looking for trouble; she just didn't know how to stay out of it.

"Is there something else?"

Jack nodded, "How's this place run? What're the percentage cuts?"

Marian immediately frowned, "Hon, I don't think you should be considering this..."

"I'm not, I'm actually shipping in a bit with Rick... but I have a friend here that works the streets. I'd feel a lot better if she could get off them; this place seems safer than tending to anyone that pops out a Corridor, y'know? An' I get the feeling you make a better profit.

"A few years back, when times were tight, she got us through--so she has to be pretty damn good." Jack shrugged. She didn't know, but Kiara got the UDs they needed. That had to say something. "If it's okay, I could have her drop by sometime. But I wanna make sure it'd work, y'know? If you only get so many clients a day or a week, then adding another split to the profits would just hurt you both."

Marian took a sip from her cup. She was somewhat bothered by the nonchalant manner in which the girl was discussing this--as thought it was the most natural thing to be speaking about. Unlike her previous moments talking about her personal life, the teen seemed to have little issue discussing other, more unsavory things. Marian liked how the girl was treating it, however. There was no hint of disgust, just a strict business sense. You had to have business sense and good human relations skills in this line of work. The little spitfire lacked severely on the latter, but the former seemed very keen.

"It depends, really. We get more than a few walk-ins, but we have about ten or so regulars. I pay my girls eighteen percent of every charge. I take a quarter of the total sales, but the rest goes back into the business."

Jack thought about it for a moment. A sip from her teacup gave her time to gather her thoughts. She didn't know how much business Kiara had or how much she was paid. It sounded good, though. And then something hit her that Jack hadn't been thinking about.

"I never asked, but Kiara might have regulars, too. She might be able to bring you some more business. So you might even increase your clientele. As it is, you're sort of competition. If she could merge her list with yours," Jack trailed off.

"I'll talk to her and you might see her in a few days' time... is that okay?"

Marian wondered if the girl had this all planned, if she really was _that_ good at playing the fool, or if it was just something that sparked into her head. The woman knew not to underestimate the girl, by now. Where did this girl come from, carrying all this about her?

"Yes, that would be fine. It sounds like she's nice; and if she's good with the books, then she'll be even better to have around. Lauren and I have trouble enough supporting ourselves and the business when my nose's always stuck in the ledger."

Jack canted her head to the side, "You're partners?"

Marian nodded.

"Shouldn't she have been here for the business talk? She has a stake in it, too."

The woman's lips quirked a bit, "We're not business partners..."

"Oh," Jack said, taking a sip of her tea, "For how long?"

Marian took another swig of her tea, "We met about twenty years ago. We sort of eloped when our parents got up in a huff about us. We figured anything..."

Jack finished, solemnly staring into her teacup, "..._Anything_ has to be better than _this_. It's like a lure, a fuckin' trap set by the station. And then you're in--and Daedalus has its jaws in you. Chewing on your soul..."

After a beat of silence, she seemed to realized what she was saying and quickly veered away from speaking further on the topic, "Um, I... I better get goin' before Rick gets paranoid. I'll talk to Kiara."

The woman stared as Jack slid out of the seat, leaving a half-empty teacup behind and left the brothel. That girl was something else, entirely. Marian finished her tea. She wished the young woman luck with Rick. It looked like she could use a little bit of happiness in her life. Talking to the girl was refreshing--gave Marian a strange sense of hope that she hadn't felt in a long time. It was funny; she just realized that she never caught the girl's name...

* * *

Jack didn't really feel like going back to the den, back to Riddick. Avoiding the inevitable explosion, as it were. Instead, she meandered to Deck 2's pathetic excuse for a Vendor's Section. She was sure there were nicer things on Deck 7, but she didn't want anything from there. The brunette wandered the hall, staring at the various stores and peddlers in the Corridors between them. They weren't selling what she wanted.

It took her another twenty minutes, but she found the small store. She wandered in and felt the eyes of the owner on her like a hawk. Yeah, she was a thief--a damn good one, at that. She moved like one, even after all these years; soft but purposeful steps... quiet ones that most people wouldn't notice. But she wasn't there to make a lift.

She picked up one of the red candles from the shelves and sniffed. Some kind of tropical thing. Another... harvest spice. Third time was the charm. She swept about ten of them into her arms. They were cheap enough to splurge, 1.2 UDs per candle. The lady got her a bag for them.

Jack rode up to Deck 5 to drop her purchase off in the _Spirit_, then finally headed back to the gang. She arrived to little fanfare, much to her surprise. Oddly, Riddick just lounged instead of prowling about or fussing with something. Maybe it was just something he did on the ship. However, he did give her an odd look when she first came in. That was fine with her, better than having an argument.

* * *

Jack smelled different. Like apple-cinnamon. That bothered Riddick for some reason he couldn't identify. Not that it smelled _bad_. Something about it just made him a tad uncomfortable, caused a strange apprehension that trickled up his spine. She also looked less stressed than she had for the past few days. He supposed that if that was the case, he could take the scent. It wasn't bad at all...

She didn't put up a fuss when he told them he wanted them back in the apartment--for the whole night. That was a relief, because he honestly didn't feel like dealing with an ornery Jack. She made one last check on Sebastian, collected Rachel from Jessie and Mike (who were still deep in discussion about something neither Jack nor Riddick could pronounce), and they headed up to Deck 7. Maybe things were turning around for a change. The very idea almost made him laugh. All he had to do was remind him of the major Hell he was about to bring to the Zolus. Tomorrow, he'd do some reconnaissance before the food-prep crates came in.

The night passed uneventfully. This time, Riddick had strange dreams. A haze of half-formed words and images zipped by him insanely while he tried to focus. When his vision did become clear, he wanted to close his eyes. But he couldn't. He was locked in position, immobile; Riddick could only observe from an unfamiliar point of view.

He saw rising fire and smoke... dust and ash... and a man with four faces. The dream repeated unsettlingly through his mind until morning. His waking moments were, for some indefinable reason, _angry_. It wasn't something he felt, personally--just like a fog that filled the air, almost stifling in its presence.

This mood passed, slowly, when he began his daily routine. Riddick shoved the dream away, discarded from thought as irrelevant. There were more important things that required his focus, today...

* * *

WEDNESDAY

Sorin cracked his knuckles as he sat down at the desk com, his coffee steaming beside the console. Today was a good day; there was much to write in his personal report. Although he did worry slightly about the current health of his specimen, he was already remedying the situation. The information was undoubtedly worth the minor setback!

Specimen 74 was altogether fascinating; apparently a perfect blend of genes. He could already see the fruits of his labor developing before his eyes--on a computer monitor. The possibilities were endless. Science, of course, but this would change so much more! Medical. Psychology. Commerce. Military. Society itself was on the next step in its evolution; and nobody but his small research team and its security officers knew it.

The doctor reviewed the footage on the right monitor with the streaming, conditional data on the left monitor. He typed his report in the middle one. For nearly an hour, he made notations on the recordings, fast-forwarding and rewinding where appropriate...

_Weekly Report_

_Week 315_

_ Over the course of the week, I decided to expand the study of Specimen 74 to alternate terrains. This provided insight into its environmental bias as well as its peak performance environment. The subject was provided a list of the sites on its com unit, as well as some brief information on each. It has provided me much to write about, this week._

_ We started out with the most obvious: subterranean tunnels with no light. Our surveillance cameras from Multivision were a great help in recording the subject's reactions. It milled about and inspected the artificial rock walls. Though more relaxed, it did little more than take a passive interest in this setting--perhaps due to lack of something for its focus. We threw in a few lab mice to test the theory. Like a housecat, it stalked its prey in an almost playful manner, cornering and releasing, sneaking and chasing. It killed the mice, but did not eat them. Maybe they were just too "small-time" for it to take any interest--or the fact that Specimen 74 had just been fed. I decided to test this hypothesis in another setting._

_ The next setting was mountainous. The subject seemed to take great pleasure in climbing and shows a distinct inclination to scale surfaces, no matter how sheer the angle. Its talons showed to be quite durable in this test. It also showed a preference for seeking out caves--an instinct, perhaps? We had to stop it when it began trying to burrow into the artificial mountain. I do not know if Specimen 74 would have succeeded, but we did not want it digging around and then having the guards spend the next few hours trying to search for it. Referring back to the subterranean set, that could have also been potentially dangerous._

_ The third day was a simulated forest. We cut access to several halls after the upper levels closed and carefully shipped it to the biodome. Here there was a slight problem. The subject displays its individuality quite often, given choices, and in a tree-filled setting such as this, it had innumerable choices of limbs. It lounged for almost an hour on a limb--once more in an almost feline fashion. Afterward, it decided to remain above the ground, usually using the canopy as cover. There was a small panic at one point when it bounded through the forest's tree limbs and disappeared from sight, but as the only biologic in the area, we were able to use the cameras to locate the subject. It refused to come down (and moved to another tree when followed) until it was time to feed it; this is the first time it has exercised any will of its own to refuse anything the guards ordered it to do... Perhaps this will humble them; this is my specimen and my project, not theirs._

_ The fourth day was set in a plain-land setting. It showed what I assume to be boredom and slept through a large period of the recordings. Perhaps we should have tossed in some mice again... or better yet, a pig._

_ However anti-climatic Sunday had been, Monday's results weren't much better. In the desert climate, it preferred to burrow into the sand or perch on a cropping of rock. This time, I came prepared and let a pig into the set. I've never seen the like of it before, a pig running in the sand. Perhaps more startling was the adaptive nature of the subject's hunting style. I was correct in guessing larger prey would catch its eye. Specimen 74 chased it for only a short period, and then broke off to circle in front of it. The subject quite literally dove into the sand, lying still under its cover. I assume its superior hearing or echolocation allowed it to detect the pig. Once within range, Specimen 74 lunged from the sand. It repeated this three times before killing the pig. It devoured a good portion of the pig before it was satisfied. After the kill, it became slightly lethargic and napped the rest of the afternoon on a slab of rock._

_ Tuesday, we switched the setting to a cold climate and gave the subject snow and ice. The subject disliked the ice, presumably because it was slippery and solid at the same time. Our artificial snow was captivating to Specimen 74 and it spent quite a while investigating the substance. While the snow did interest it, the subject was not as active as in the others--possibly due to the low temperature. The guards had difficulty getting it to respond again. I tried to tell them to leave my specimen alone, but one of the guards threw a snowball at the subject. It ducked, even though its back was to the guard--I suspect this is its echolocation at work. After studying the snowball and its obvious purpose, Specimen 74 used its tail to whip a tide of snow at the guard. It may be unprofessional, but I found the entire ordeal highly amusing._

_ -Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research_

Now it was time to check on his specimen. He moved to the old-fashioned coat rack and lifted his lab coat free. After settling it over his dark, pin-stripe suit, he left his office. His white-access security card allowed him passage through several doors and into the observation room.

The nigh-constant rumble, which wave analysis discovered to be a rapid succession of low-range clicks, emanated from the room beyond the shatterproof window; told him that, even though likely asleep, Specimen 74 was still alert--still aware. The smallest sound it heard or motion it detected with its echolocation would likely jolt it to full consciousness. At once, with no lethargy miring it, all its intimidating attention would hone in on any disturbance to its setting.

It was a thing of wonder. It was primal power, forgotten secrets, and the answer to the future of humanity... and it was _his_.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

A bit of real life in the beginning. We have inter-system travel, nano-med technology, and artificial super-intelligences... and we _still_ can't make a strong enough filter to stop spam. Off that topic, though... Riddick seems to have a plan for taking down Randal.

And then we have the meat of this chapter. Jack has a plan, too. I had this in my head for quite a while, now. Took me over 200 pages to get there, though. I'm simply thrilled with the length. I know some people are probably exclaiming at me, "_FINALLY!_" That's okay. I never intended them to just... jump in the sack. Relationships--especially convoluted ones like Riddick and Jack's--aren't like that.

They need to work through some issues, first. At least it's on its way. It seems to me that Jack wouldn't know how to handle a relationship or even how to begin one, since it's something she's never considered until recently. So, doing what comes naturally (following Riddick) seemed like the best way to get answers. The brothel isn't a throwaway plot device, either. We'll be getting back to it later.

Beyond that, it's Wednesday morning again. I told you that's Report day! So here, we take a small look into the specimen's world. What they do to it, how it acts, etc. Sorin's thrilled, obviously. This was literally the easiest part of the story thus far. I created a "master report" for Sorin, so the events leading up to how this ties in with our current story lines are already plotted and just need pasted in. Heh.

Honestly, I love Specimen 74. I'm just dying to tell you all about it, but I don't want anybody killing me for spoiling. So... I'll leave it be. We're approaching that point soon, anyhow.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	17. 17: End of the Maze

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 17: End of the Maze_

It was easy enough to snag a vent tool from a maintenance cart, and the vents were even easier to access. At Butcher's, someone had scrawled their own primitive arrows and labels in the vents. On Daedalus, there were plaques listing the deck-intersection coordinates, corridor, and a mini-map at every junction. "YOU ARE HERE" included.

Riddick scrutinized the map. _D4, I4-OL_. In other words, he was on Deck 4 at the fourth intersection on the outer side of the ring, lower circuit. The ladder in front of him led to the upper circuit of vents on this deck. He looked down. The hatch under him led to...

The maintenance shaft. His ticket to inter-deck access. _Randal_.

The escaped convict opened the shaft and descended the ladder for an absurd amount of time. It was the price of clandestine movement through Daedalus, he supposed, otherwise he would have used a lift and been down in thirty seconds. He opened the hatch below him and dropped. The corridors, intersections, and maintenance shafts had bright lights so the plaques were legible. It almost annoyed him, because he had to keep putting his goggles on every time he came to a corridor/intersection so as not to blind himself.

This plaque informed him, _D3, I4-OL_.

'_Welcome to Zolusland,_' thought Riddick.

Riddick crept through the identical tunnels, intersection after intersection. He peered through various gratings along the way. Zolus milled about in a comfortable life--how Daedalus was supposed to be. The gang, for its insidious reputation, moved about Deck 3 as though they were any station of blue-collar, commuting workers...

He came close to Corridor L before he heard anything of help. Peering down one of the gratings, he saw two Zolus walking in his direction. One was talking, the other paying attention to the story.

"...and when I got back to my pad, there she was--bleedin' all over the fuckin' table."

"Shit," said the other Zolus.

"Yeah. Had that pet for two months, too. Never figured her for the suicidal type. Now I gotta scout out a new one."

"Don't you still got three of 'em?"

The Zolus shrugged, "Don't like odd numbers."

The other man looked at him strangely for a second, and then shook his head. Instead of commenting, he went on, "Won't matter soon, though."

The pet-collector frowned, "Whyzzat?"

"Randal said he was gonna cut off pet access if we don't find the fucker that made that mess in Section 1."

"Are you fuckin' with me? How're we supposed to fuckin' know?"

He shook his head again, "Said he was increasin' patrols and wants us to start makin' rounds lookin' for 'im. He says someone had ta see or know something. An' he wants us ta squeeze the decks for dirt.

"And he hasn't left X since. Jus' holes himself up there, plannin' more shit. Like we ain't got enough ta do, already..."

"Shit," the pet-owner complained and spat.

Riddick had heard enough. Corridor X was a long ways off... but he didn't intend to hit Randal today. Besides, those food-prep crates were due to arrive soon. It was almost fifteenth hour. He continued toward Intersection 2, which was closest to Corridor L, and moved up the maintenance shaft there to Deck 4. From there, he simply made his way down the walkway to the spire, and then up to Deck 5.

* * *

While Riddick was out doing whatever it was Riddick did with his time, Jack rode down to Deck 2 again. She had a short discussion with Kiara, checked on Sebastian, and then went to Deck 5. The girl was fixing herself a small lunch in the galley of the Spirit when Riddick came in. Jack knew it was Riddick because the lights lowered to forty percent shortly after she heard the ramp lower. She went to meet him.

"Ho-ly shit! Where have you _been_?" she asked aghast.

She trailed her eyes over him from head to toe; he was _covered_ in dust and his pants had small, dark stains of what looked like oil on the knees. Even the goggles resting on his forehead had a layer of particles. She couldn't begin to think of where he had been or what he was doing to come out looking like _that_.

"You ever been around Corridor X on Deck 2?" he asked instead of answering.

Jack thought for a moment, "Couple o' times, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm gonna get cleaned up, I'll tell both of you at the same time. Don't like repeating myself."

Curious as she was, Jack nodded and went back to her food. Just looking at him was making her want to wash her hands again...

* * *

Rachel woke up early and sequestered herself in her room on the Spirit. No one saw hide or tail of her for most of the morning, but that was okay. There were times that she just wanted to be alone. Until now, she had been in the presence of Jack's group, which was teeming with people in a small space at any given hour of the day. Rachel was a mostly solitary creature and got her socializing done at school. Having to deal with so many people for so many hours had been draining.

She'd taken a moment from her conversation to retrieve some juice, but then she was back at the com. The redhead donned her headset and relaxed on her bed with her pillows propping her up. She picked up her com-pad and turned off the screensaver.

"I'm back now. Anyway, we didn't find a list of account numbers... That was the oddest part about the code. It swept through the bank and took from every account beginning with the letters 'I' or 'N.'"

#C4sper: One moment...#

#C4sper: I can't believe we didn't catch that... What's the significance? Some kind of joke, "I got IN?" Random letters? Initials?#

Rachel frowned, "We don't know. That's what we've been trying to figure out. If they're initials, it doesn't make sense. The Idents of the blackhats don't match that, nor does it match the account name on the _ULTrust_ bank drop-site.

"It has to be important, though, and that's bothering us. At least we have the accounts, though. So we'll send you the list--now you can put the proper amounts of UDs back in each account."

She cued the file transfer.

"The sooner you can figure the allotment to the accounts, the better. You have the account numbers and can match them up with the account names. It's not just the Aquilan Banking Trust and its customers that are suffering. People are afraid to make deals in the Aquilan System, and the entrepreneurs there are losing business because people fear their lack of security.

"To that end, we've spent the last few days working on something that might help. It's a verification program. Its encryption requires a personal code... and there's no databank of accepted codes for blackhats to crack. I can send it if you'd like."

There was a short pause.

#C4sper: How could anyone get access if there's no databank of acceptable codes?#

"It's DNA encoded! The encryption for DNA is so gigantic that it's implausible to duplicate. There's no databank--just a value check. There's no quick way to program a false DNA value that matched a specific account when they don't know whose account they're trying to access, much less their DNA!

"We're aware that it would take a Scanner to unlock an account, but all you'd really need is a thumb-sized scanner that you could plug into a com. Those are cheap--cost less than it does to open an account. It would be a rather large policy change, but it would probably be for the best..."

* * *

Torvald turned around, "Haven't we been kicking that idea around for a few years? Our prisons have 'em. Why not our banks?"

"Yes, but we'd never have the time to synchronize every account with everyone's DNA in the universe," Antony reminded, although he was interested in where this was going...

Torvald relayed the response.

#Aeacus: Oh... Well, what if it was an optional security measure? Like regular locks and DNA-locks? Then people could upgrade at their leisure and convenience...#

One of the Internal Affairs agents conferred with each other in that behind-his-back manner they always did when they were about to come down on whatever he was doing with a heavy hand. Before they could come to a head on the matter, he responded.

#C4sper: The suits don't trust it. It's a good idea, though.#

There was a lag in the reply and he could almost _see_ Cerberus rolling their eyes.

#Aeacus: If they're _that_ paranoid, they can have the source code--we haven't compiled it, yet. I still have my coding notes on it, too... You can look it over and make changes to it. Simulator runs say it's sound, but we'd rather have it put through a trial run...#

#SentryCom02: That will be just fine. We would be happy to see what you've come up with.#

Torvald spun around in his chair.

* * *

Rachel paused, staring at the input in the Private Discussion Channel. It was unexpected, but it pleased her anyway.

"Is that you, Lt. Gen. Greco?"

#SentryCom02: Yes, it is. Torvald isn't the only one that knows a few tricks.#

"Certainly, Sir... but we'll need an hour or so," Rachel said, glancing over the notes she'd made for the program she wrote. "We have to configure it as an optional upgrade--and include the password protection as part of its check. It would add a small measure of increased, overall protection to each account..."

"We'll be back in a bit and send you the source code."

It took about two hours, but she'd finally worked her way through the code and added all the exceptions and optional settings she needed or wanted. Minos and Rhad did all the configuration coding and calculations that would have taken her weeks. Rachel only had to focus on the more difficult aspects of the code--not the minutiae that any programmer could fill in on their own time.

Finally, she'd finished and sent the deep-compression file of her notes to Sentry.

* * *

"Incoming transmission," Torvald said, "It's a big one--probably 'cause it's raw source code, not a compiled program."

Antony nodded and Torvald began the download.

#Aeacus: I included my notes in the margins. It should link up to just about any type of software, but if it doesn't, my notes show where you can customize the upgrade and integration codes to fix that.#

#C4sper: Thank you, we'll review it; if it works for Sentry, we might just put it on the Aquilan Banking Trust after the case is over.#

#Aeacus: That'd be great!#

Once the file had finished, Torvald opened the file and grazed over the coding--there was far too much to spend reading. He turned on the option to show notes and various blue arrows and text to the side appeared. He nodded.

"If this works, Tony, Cerberus just handed us the newest encryption software on the market--for free..."

Antony was also glancing through the code as well. He scrolled up to the top of the document and found an unimportant, but interesting insertion. Aeacus had doodled Cerberus as a three-headed Great Dane in a laying position. The middle head was down, 'Z's emitting from it in sleep. The other two heads had reading glasses on, both forepaws holding pieces of paper in front of the left and right heads. Beside the doodle were the words, "_Heavy coding gives Aeacus a headache_."

The Lieutenant General wondered if Aeacus remembered putting it there, but decided not to mention it.

* * *

Rachel tossed her headset on the bed and got up. She changed into a tough pair of blue pants and a lightweight grey shirt. They would be getting the food-prep crates today and that would mean getting them into the cargo bay. She was likely going to be all sweaty by the end of that...

When she came out of her room, she could hear someone's shower going and the com in the lounge was on. Jack and Riddick must be back, then. She went into the lounge and Jack took notice of her presence. The news was on--something about loss of contact from the Coalsack planets. An investigation was underway.

"Where've you been?" the brunette asked.

"I came here earlier this morning. I've been working on some stuff for Sentry. If I'm lucky, this should be over soon--you might see something about it on the news in a few weeks."

Riddick came up behind her, "Got some news, myself."

Rachel started a little, but gathered herself enough to listen to what he was saying.

"By the end of the day tomorrow, control of Daedalus is gonna be up in the air. It's gonna be chaotic for a while. I don't plan on bein' here for it. We're gonna fuel up tonight and get off this dive as soon as I'm finished."

Rachel frowned, "What are you going to do?"

"He's gonna kill the Zolus head." Jack tucked into herself, curling up on the couch. Her voice was almost pleading, "Riddick, I really don't like this... Can't we just leave?"

"I've been waitin' to ghost this fucker for years... I'm not letting 'im slip me again. You don't have to be anywhere near it, Jack. Just tie up all your unfinished business and stay on the ship 'til I get back. We'll ship out before the station knows what happened."

"How are you going to pull this off?" the redhead asked.

"Vents and shafts lead all over the place here. Gonna take it straight to the heart of the Zolus and take down Randal. Might not even draw any attention 'til they find the body."

Jack blinked, processing everything she'd learned so far, "_That's_ why you wanted to know if I'd been to X on Deck 2... You're gonna slip in the back. But how're you gonna manage that, you'd need a vent-"

Riddick retrieved a large hex-wrench that he'd stashed halfway in his left boot and under his pant leg.

"-tool," she finished blandly.

Rachel, for her part, felt conflicted. She was hearing a plot for a murder. Moreover, it wasn't just a murder, but an extensively premeditated murder--an assassination. She knew Riddick was a killer; she'd had seen that overweight mercenary's corpse, the ghastly amounts of blood that stained his beige-and-blue uniform to black-and-purple. It stuck in her mind, that stretching mouth of a wound yawning at her... drooling fresh, deep-red blood. Rachel shuddered.

At the same time, almost blotted out from fear, she recalled her logical mind stating that this was a good thing. This was right. It was just the inevitable outcome when someone threatened Audrey and Rick. The man simply had to die for them to be safe.

However, this Randal person didn't have to die. They could leave and no one would be any the wiser.

"Why are you set on killing this man?"

Riddick paused, turning to stare at the mouse. For a moment, the sound of shrieking winds and a crater full of body parts filled his mind. He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter why. It's who we are--what we do. Killin's as easy as breathin', Mouse. Between Randal 'n' me, there ain't any way around it."

Jack was staring at her boots, "This isn't just some guy, is it? Otherwise, you'd've X'ed him out when you found out about him. ...Is he gonna be trouble?"

Riddick shrugged, "Could be. Prolly more trouble gettin' to 'im than it will be ghosting the fucker."

She didn't respond. Still didn't like it one bit. Jack shifted on the couch as she fought to reassure herself. For some reason, it was harder to do this time... Maybe it was because this was Daedalus, and nobody escaped Daedalus.

Her eyes focused on him, trying to convey words through her upset expression, '_You better stay alive, or I'll kill you..._'

Rachel might have argued more, but a chime sounded. On the wall-mounted com, a window opened showing someone in a grey and blue jumpsuit standing in front of the gangway. The aft sensors displayed the image and the artificial intelligences automatically began verifying the man against databases--starting with Daedalus and onward. In moments, Rhadamanthus identified the man as John Malcolm, a dockworker. His registered Ident, current address, age, physical stats, health conditions, job history, and blank criminal record appeared in another window beside the first. Minos announced the purpose of the chime, though they had already guessed the reason.

"Organalyzer indicates a Human male. Occupation: dockworker. He has activated the door-page," it said, "Daedalus' shipping itinerary indicates one order pending verification for the _Spirit of Langavat_."

Rachel nodded, "I know, Minos, we've been expecting the delivery."

They moved down to the cargo bay and Riddick turned the safety lock handle to release the latches. When he hit the red button, the ramp descended to reveal the John Malcom standing there with blank boredom written across his face. In his hand was a small com-pad.

"Mr. Connal?" he asked in a voice that suggested he called names monotonously through the day like this.

Riddick came down the gangway, followed closely by Rachel and Jack.

"That's me," he replied and took the provided stylus.

"Please verify the shipment details and sign."

Riddick browsed over the list briefly and nodded. These were the right crates. He signed off on them and the price deducted from the account Rachel had set up in their name. It would take a while to sort the boxes into proper storage. If they didn't need them immediately, they'd probably be able to hold off on this until sometime later. As it was, they were going to have to open the crates now and take them into the galley cupboards--a few, at least. The rest of the sorting was due to Riddick almost obsessive-compulsive nature of organization.

Rachel sighed, but grabbed a package out of the crate that stood about half as tall as Riddick and made for the ladder. There were about sixty packages per crate. They were taking up about twelve before they started sorting the rest of the contents.

* * *

Kiara moved toward Section 2, moving purposefully. It was best to move purposefully when you didn't want to be stopped. If people thought you were expected somewhere, thought you would be missed, they usually left you alone. If someone was milling about uncertainly, then that person could wind up 'lost' and nobody would think anything of it. You didn't want to be 'lost' on Daedalus--you'd never be found.

She slowed down by Corridor H and paid attention to the signs above the apartment doors. The woman didn't often bother with other Sections; it was safer to stay where she was. However, it wasn't as if she would be traversing across the station, just heading into Section 2 from Section 1.

Kiara entered the apartment complex and took a moment to take in the decor. It _was_ a nice place, she would admit. There was no exaggeration on Jack's part. She'd said to check it out in a few days' time, but she had some free time right now. Their little group wasn't in dire need for money right now, but it was best not to leave it until such a time that they were.

She saw the woman in a deep red dress and decorative, black lace sitting behind the desk writing in some binder. Kiara assumed this was the woman in charge and moved up to the desk.

"Hello," she said politely. First impressions and all that.

The woman looked up and gave a slight smile, "Hello. Shelly is with another client at the moment; if you would like to wait or come back in about half an hour, I am sure she will be free."

Kiara shook her head, "I'm not a customer. Actually, Jack suggested I should talk to Marian. That would be you, correct?"

Marian frowned, "Yes, I'm Marian. However, I don't remember any Jack."

"Well, you might have been given a different name," Kiara said and held her hand out, almost even with her mouth, motioning a little, "About this tall with dark-brown hair, green eyes. A little, uh... a little rough around the edges. Probably came in after a big guy wearing goggles..."

Now there was a description Marian wasn't likely to miss. She stopped raking her mind over their clients and raised a brow, "Jack was the girl? She caused quite a stir here yesterday."

"Yes, that would be her. I'm sorry if Jack made any trouble for you; she can be a little unpredictable. I'm Kiara--she said I should speak with you about possible employment."

Marian wasn't sure what to expect from the woman that Jack had mentioned would stop by... but this certainly wasn't it. The woman was quite intelligent and well spoken. She had feared the woman might have been as abrupt and foul-mouthed as the girl was. Two refreshing presences in as many days... maybe things were looking up.

"No trouble. She ran off one of my less favorable customers. Considering, I should probably thank her... Would you like to talk over lunch? We were just about to break."

Kiara smiled, "That would be fine."

* * *

"-came down the stairs, and she's just standing there with her boot on his neck, like it's the most natural thing in the world. And she tells him, 'No touching.' I think Andre almost shit himself," Lauren said with a chuckle.

Kiara had a strained smile. If Riddick knew that had happened, the man would probably be dead. Come to think of it...

"Did she hurt him? Seriously, I mean. Jack has a tendency to react very badly to people like that... he's lucky to be alive."

Lauren lost some of her humor and nodded, "I suspected that much, but she was very controlled--if nothing else. She threatened him with a knife and sent him packing. After that, we talked for a bit. She's a strange girl, that one; strangely likeable, too."

They went quiet while they worked their way through the salad and spaghetti. It was something they could afford and Lauren liked to splurge on meals once a month. It helped keep morale up and filled stomachs better, which was good for the energy it took to do their jobs.

"I think we can work this out--do you have a way to contact your johns? We can set a room up for you while you get the word out, if you'd like," Marian said as she idly traced the rim of her teacup with a finger.

Lauren prodded Marian as she stood up, "Don't forget to eat. We only have another fifteen before the afternoon crowd starts. I'm going to get ready."

"I won't, I won't," she said and, after a quick kiss, focused on making a dent in her meal.

Kiara waved to Lauren when she went to prepare for the second shift, "It should only take me a day or two to contact my regulars. I can start on Friday, if that's okay?"

Marian nodded and finished off the salad that her partner made, "That would be fine. ...Say, how are you with record-keeping?"

* * *

"C'mon, Jack, I know you can do better than that. Get your head out of the clouds and your ass in gear."

She ran at him and spun beneath a right hook. Jack jammed her right boot backward into his calf. While he was staggered, the girl spun to face him, switched her stance with a left kick to the back of his knee, and buckled Riddick to a kneel. Finally, she made a full rotation and sent her right heel into the back of his head. The street rat made sure not to put much force into it despite the rapid spin.

Her original plan had been to kick the back of his neck, but that was too dangerous even for sparring. Not that the back of his head seemed much better... He had a notoriously thick skull, anyway. After she completed her rotation, Jack landed on one knee, her right leg still extended but slightly bent. She remained crouched just in case he could do something from the floor.

Riddick, for his part, had simply dropped and went face-first into the mat. His senses spun and his vision remained fuzzy for a few seconds as he slowly regained himself. It took him a few seconds to push up off the ground.

'_Well, I asked for it..._' he thought acerbically.

Someday, he was going to figure out where she came up with all this shit.

"I don't like the idea that you're gonna put yourself at risk when you don't need to. That's against everything you taught me. 'If it's too big a risk, find another way.' But here you are, going to the heart of the Zolus! I don't get it."

The two squared off again. They traded a few punches and blocked or dodged a few kicks. When she attempted a spinning back fist counter, she found her arm grabbed and forced behind her back--and then he had her pinned against the wall.

"I told you, Jack. There ain't any other way. We're killers. It's always gonna be this way until one of us kills the other. Anytime we're close enough, we're gonna go for each other's throats."

In spite of her position, Jack let out a sigh.

"When you play _who's the better killer_ with this Randal guy, you'd better be the best damn killer there is, Riddick. 'Cause I fuckin' swear I'll kick your ass if you lose!"

"Deal," he said.

They moved to the middle of the room and squared off.

"So X," he commented, as he lunged for her.

She stepped to the side and punted with her leg as he passed, nailing him in the stomach. Riddick grunted and landed in a tumble, immediately coming to his feet. The man stalked toward her and feinted with a right punch, only to send his left leg swinging at her side like a bat.

Jack misjudged and only managed to get her hands to form a light guard for her side. She couldn't take the impact, however, and the kick flung her to the side. The street rat rolled on the ground with the inertia, but he pounced upon her before she could gather herself.

"What about it?" she asked as she sat up and tried a few elbow strikes.

Her ground game was good; she kept him from bypassing her guard and mounting her so he could rain down punches and elbows. Every minute shift he made she would mirror or counter with a shift of her legs. When he went on the offensive, Jack would start bucking her hips or try to get a boot on his stomach (or plant one in his face). The girl was good, but she hadn't learned all the necessary tricks to be extremely effective during a ground 'n' pound session. On the other hand, she checked his punches and blocked his elbows very well.

Riddick finally managed to get her right wrist and caught her left fist in his hand when she tried to punch her way to freedom. She struggled to find some sort of way out of it, but they both knew he had her. Finally, the street rat sat back to reserve her energy.

"Now what? We're stuck."

Riddick shook his head, "Nope."

She frowned at him.

"Head butts."

Her mouth opened, but no words formed for a moment.

"Uh... how 'bout we skip that part?"

He grinned and let her go, "Thought you'd see it my way."

She took note of their position and blushed. _Very_ compromising. Jack quickly squirmed out from under him and shot to her feet. The girl glanced at the time--_saved_. She immediately headed for her towel and covered her face with it. Jack wiped the sweat away with more care and at greater length than necessary.

"So," her voice cracked slightly. She cleared her throat, "Um, so... What'd you wanna know about X?"

"What's the best access point? There's access to the shafts at the front and back of every Corridor, but there's too much traffic to go unnoticed through the front. Probably gonna have to go for a vent in one of the Corridors. You know what's in X?"

Jack thought about it, "Probably more people holin' up like we did. Might be more people in the back-alleys, so you might wanna take a quick walkthrough to check it out. People around here find it safer to pay attention to others and mind their own business..."

He understood that paradox well; it was practically slam-life. Riddick idly wondered what it was going to be like once he killed Randal. Would someone come to power and put everything back into a thug's haven? Would another militant-minded leader fight to the top? Would it be better or worse than Randal? The escaped convict wasn't interested enough to stick around and find out.

They returned to their rooms to shower before dinner. Jack acted a little strange after the spar, but he chalked it up to her worrying about Randal. They'd be gone before breakfast tomorrow and maybe her '_girl mood_' would pass on this whole business. Not that he would admit it to either of the girls, but they confused the fuck out of him.

* * *

Dinner was nice, if a little quiet. Everyone had their own thoughts to work through. Jack was glad she wasn't asked for any input. She worked on some of her homework and finished about half of it before deciding to turn in early. If she didn't, she'd probably just spend the whole time worrying.

Jack was so engrossed in her thoughts of tomorrow that she could barely remember what she'd had for dinner. Salad and... something. It filled her stomach, though. That was the important thing. She slid open her room door, deciding to stay on the ship; Riddick had said she could stay there until he was done...

The girl took out one of the candles she'd purchased and inhaled its scent. _Nice_. She set it on her nightstand and lit it. Over the next ten minutes, its soothing apple-cinnamon aroma filled the air. Then she took off her boots and picked up the right one. They were sturdy, thick. Slowly, an idea for something formed in her head. Something _sharp_. She tinkered with the idea for an hour or so and took a few measurements. Jack was sure there'd be enough room for her to add a nasty little surprise to it, but it would take time to work out the mechanics of it.

She spent the short remainder of the evening just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Jack tried to stop thinking, just put everything out of her head so she could fall asleep. In the end, she wound up concentrating on the scent of the candle that lingered in the room after she'd snuffed the flame. It worked, and some twenty minutes later, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

Jack was sitting in the chair in the bedroom at _Madame Marian's Roses_. Lauren was laughing at something she had said... Then the woman got up and left her there. For some reason she couldn't explain, Jack got up and started inspecting the bed. Furthermore, she somehow wound up sprawled out on its red, satin sheets with her head resting on the cloud-soft pillows.

The door opened, and Riddick was standing in the frame. She blinked owlishly and sat up.

"Uh... hey..." she said abashedly.

He remained silent and then stalked over to the foot of the bed. She glanced away and felt her face heat up. When she glanced back, he was _shirtless_. Her ears started to burn as he moved onto the bed and prowled up it. Soon, he loomed over her as he had when they were sparring. Riddick's goggles were up and those mercury pools pinned her to the bed.

She glanced away, unable to deal with the sudden intensity she found there. Jack's eyes drew back to him almost of their own volition... and his eyes were still upon her. She glanced down to avoid that stare. Her eyes trailed down his neck and over his well-defined chest. He was mouthwateringly shirtless and she was na-

* * *

"_Fuck_...!" Jack exclaimed as she sat up in a flash.

She was hyperventilating. The girl wiped the sweat from her brow and flopped back into the mattress, trying to catch her breath. She shook her head to clear away the lingering fog of sleep. It did nothing for the warmth that remained. Only half of it was coming from her crimson-glowing face...

She glanced at the clock next to her candle. It was a quarter 'til sixth hour.

'_Well, that's it for sleep..._'

Jack took a long, _cool_ shower and eventually left her room, intending to do some training--maybe pummel the bag until she couldn't think. Right now, thinking was something she didn't want to do. For the past couple of days, her mental meanderings always brought her back to him. All roads lead to Rick... or something. It was becoming an obsession and it had to stop before she did or said something that ruined their lives.

She heard the ramp door close. Jack froze in place, and then ran back to Riddick's room. She knocked on his door but received no answer. The girl had hoped to talk to him more about this whole Randal thing. She ran back into the mess. Nothing.

"Rhad!" she called, simply because it was the shortest name between them, "Did Riddick just leave the ship?"

"The Ident matching Murdoch Connal left the _Spirit of Langavat_ at 06:31," it replied.

"Shit! Shit shit _shit_!" Jack cursed and ran into the hall. She pounded on Rachel's door.

Within moments, a squinting Rachel blinked tiredly at her, "What is it?"

"Riddick's already gone! I'm not going to let him go after the Zolus alone--I'm going after him."

This was exactly what she didn't want to happen. She knew that anyone anywhere could die at anytime. They all seemed to think she was so fucking ignorant of the risk! Jack understood it, though, and if she had to die, she would prefer to die next to Riddick. Being with him was what was important. For as long as possible, she needed to be with him.

Rachel finally registered what was happening and ran back for her glasses. She took another second to snag her com-pad and headset and stuff them into her empty book bag. She grabbed the knife Riddick had given her, as well. In the meantime, Jack whisked to the ramp and began lowering it. By the time it was open, Rachel was by her side with something towel-wrapped strapped to her back. Jack eyed it for a moment but decided not to comment. Instead, she rushed down the walkway to the elevator.

The redhead wasn't comfortable with Riddick's intent to murder someone... but she wanted to keep Jack out of as much trouble as she could. Maybe somehow get her to stay on the sidelines. She was aware that accomplishing such a thing was next to impossible, but she had to try. It was going to be dangerous where they were going, which was why she was bringing that rifle with the machete in it. This wasn't a videogame, and people could and would get hurt. Rachel wasn't blind to that fact, but she would have to get over it or she would eventually wind up a victim.

The elevator door had just about closed when they reached it. Pouring on some extra speed, Jack rushed for it. Her arm shot into the door and alerted the sensors. The door slowly opened to reveal Riddick's menacing form. Rachel caught up, out of breath and a bit dizzy from rushing about so soon after waking up. Her hair was still frazzled and in disarray.

"Jack, what the fuck're you doin'?" he demanded as she moved into the lift. Even more vexing was the mouse that followed.

The brunette crossed her arms and glared at him. The silent message was vague, and didn't explain, but it got her point across. She was in for the long haul.

"Before we got here, you didn't want to be within a hundred petameters of Daedalus just to stay away from the Zolus. Now I'm headin' straight into the thick of it all an' you just wanna _fling_ yourself to 'em?"

"With you," she exclaimed angrily, "I didn't want to be within a hundred petameters of Daedalus _with you_! I'm not letting you leave again!"

"Jack-"

She knew that, if she gave him half a moment, he would have some excuse, some reason, some form of logic to make her go. She didn't give him that chance.

"Am I with you? That's what you're always asking. Fuck, Riddick... _Am_ I?"

Riddick remained silent for a short time. The only sound came from the angry and frustrated breathing from both killers.

"...Remember, if you're with me, you do as I say."

The tension slowly bled out of Jack and she leaned against the wall. She nodded to him. It seemed like he understood, now. And she was right where she needed to be.

Rachel remained quiet. It was best to observe and plan in these situations. Her mind began working over logistics, forcing out her confliction and replacing it with calm, cool facts. With that done, she had a flood of ideas to make this whole 'kill the Zolus' thing go smoother. The argument happening beside her became of secondary importance. Finally, they seemed to have come to an agreement. So much better...

"We could reduce casualties and do it with minimal attention."

Riddick exhaled slowly, letting his emotions settle into the killer mindset he was busy preparing before Jack arrived, "That's the plan, Mouse."

"I mean we could do it better," she said; even had the audacity to reach up and tap a goggle lens, "You're the key."

He was perturbed at her strange gesture, but had assigned all her little idiosyncrasies to her 'Cerberus mode.' He canted his head to the side anyway. It was usually worth hearing what the mouse concocted in that crazy little head of hers. She pulled off her backpack and reached inside for the headset and com-pad. Riddick honestly wasn't surprised.

"It's simple. We will shut off the lights to this deck. You sneak in and kill the man quietly. You can slip in and out during the confusion and we'll be gone before they find his body."

It _was_ simple. Riddick was all for simplicity.

"You can pull that off?" he said, not questioning her but wanting an affirmation.

Rachel held up the com-pad's stylus, "The pen is mightier than the sword."

* * *

Fingers ran through short, blonde hairs. Icy, blue eyes stared intensely at the 3D graphical map of Daedalus. The tabletop, horizontal com-screen was the only source of light in the alley-turned-fortress. The Zolus fitted X with heavy security long ago; the buildings were garrisons. The rest of Deck 3 consisted of drug manufacturing facilities, caches of weapons to be fenced, or barracks. X remained a Corridor forbidden to everyone but the highest standing--and that often meant longest standing--members of the Zolus echelons. These Zolus were the commanders. Here, those that had carved out their niche and claimed their place in Zolus history kept watch over their ranks.

At the head of it all, the leader of the Zolus watched over them. He had his own quarters secured even heavier than the garrisons had been. His closest lieutenants were the only ones that had clearance. It was unthinkable that someone could penetrate their defenses. Complacency, however, led to one's downfall. That was _exactly_ why Randal was on edge. They were so fucking sure he was worrying about nothing.

Nine bodies said otherwise. Nine bodies with their tattoos cut off their necks said 'I'm coming for you.' Randal was no fool. He knew his mysterious, would-be nemesis hadn't left. The man wasn't in hiding or just sitting with his thumb up his ass. No, Randal knew the man either was planning a major strike or was on his way _right_ _fucking_ _now_!

Jackson's knife had been stolen on Deck 7. Jackson and eight others were killed on Deck 3. It was too large of a jump, too many possibilities. _Nobody_ from Deck 7 came down to the lower decks. Yet, obviously, they _did_. He couldn't squeeze the entire station for information. They were already demanding information from Decks 2, 4, and 5. They'd come up with jackshit.

"Nick, have the blockades and guards been placed in X and adjacent Corridors?"

* * *

Nick resembled Randal in many ways. They had the same type of frame, the same close-cropped hairstyle, and the same style of urban-camouflaged tactical gear. The differences, however, literally started at the top and went on forever. His hair was a dark brown and prone to curling if he let it grow. His eyes were mahogany and held a fiery intensity within them in counterpoint to Randal's icy orbs.

Their personalities were night and day, as well. Nicholas could be personable when he wished, and even his strict nature spoke of a control and respect for a meticulous way of life. Randal, however, was forbidding--a glacier floating the middle of a sea of men... unforgiving and unreachable. The Zolus leader appeared to be barely in control; always dancing on a razor's edge, as though he could fall into a near-psychotic rage at any moment. Personally, it bothered his Second in Command, Nick. It made him doubt Randal's sanity.

Nicholas nodded, "Yes, Sir. The guards started last shift."

"Good. Whatever's happened, it's not over... Something's bound to happen soon. Keep your eyes open," Randal ordered, stalking back to his armchair.

The aloof blonde sat with his elbows on the arms, chin resting on the fist clasped by the other hand. By his chair was a small stand with an extra handgun. Even though he was always armed, he believed in never taking foolish chances. His measures bordered on the paranoid, but Randal hadn't survived all these years by living an oblivious life.

Nicholas watched him silently for a moment, and then left the room. His speculations on Randal's recent behavior and the way he'd been running the Zolus like his personal army bothered him. Zed was a thug, but he was a _respectable_ thug. Zed had even started to come around.

The old leader wasn't an idiot, and when Nicholas had come to him with his ideas, Zed had listened. The changes these ideas brought would have caused as much of a stir as Randal... maybe more... but they would have gained massive power and force in the known systems. They would move out of the shadows, from the deplorable bane of an intersystem gang to a major player. Randal had fucked it up.

Randal imperiously swept in, killed Zed, and made drugs and weapons the main function of the Zolus. Their newest drug, Rush, was fucking people up throughout the systems. It was also fucking up some of the Zolus users. The weapons made Nicholas uneasy. He didn't know where they came from, couldn't weasel it from Randal. Selling cutting-edge weaponry to anyone and everyone that could afford it from a supplier unknown was _not_ a wise business practice.

Something had to happen before Randal ran the Zolus into the ground. Quietly, he thought it over. Maybe there _was_ someone still on the station. Maybe they _were_ gunning for Randal. ... Maybe Nicholas would let human nature run its course.

* * *

On Deck 2, the unlikely three silently moved into Corridor X in Section 4. They kept alert as they moved into the very back of the Corridor. Only a few squatters sat at the back. They eyed the three suspiciously, but when silvery eyes turned on them, they hurriedly looked away.

Riddick pulled out the vent tool. While the inhabitants of X were still looking away, he fit the tool to the bolt and opened it. He quickly jumped in, Jack and Rachel following almost immediately afterward. Unlike Butcher's, the hinges opened quietly and without any attention-calling groan and shriek. Probably because someone oiled them at least once in the past fifty years...

When one of the squatters in X finally gained the courage to look at the three again, he jerked slightly. They'd disappeared. He didn't even hear them leave. The man didn't have the guts to get up and check it out; curiosity could get you killed around here, after all.

There was enough room in the vents for Riddick to squat down and move in a crouch, which was a relief to Jack and Rachel. Crawling would seriously hinder their speed. Riddick immediately set off from his point in the direction they had come, toward Intersection 1. This time, however, they were behind everything, on the outer ring of tunnels. When they came to the intersection, he looked up, noting the hatch.

The escaped convict moved slightly to the left to allow Jack and Rachel move into the intersection. He pointed at the dimly lit map on the side of the wall.

"Look here, we're goin' in from behind and below. This hatch," he said while gesturing above him, "leads to a ladder. We got a bit of a climb ahead of us. If anything goes wrong, we all head _up_. We'll climb as hard and fast as we can to Deck 5. They'll be watching the elevators. From there, we'll go to Zone 12--that's the same as Corridor L. We'll hop ship and get the fuck out.

"...If it all goes like it's supposed to, we shouldn't have to rush. But we're still gonna climb it. Don't wanna chance bein' caught by Zolus or the guards on their payroll."

Rachel blinked, "I noticed the grates on the way here. Do you want me to back you up while you're in the open?"

Riddick stared at her, "How d'you plan to do that?"

The redhead sat down and pulled off her backpack, from there, she unwrapped the assault rifle and stuffed the towel in the backpack. Rachel stated the obvious, "I brought the gun."

"What happened to 'the pen is mightier than the sword?'" he asked.

"Some people are illiterate. Bullets illustrate the point very well," Rachel said. She paused as though unsure but quickly reaffirmed, "I don't like the idea of killing, but I'll be there when it counts."

It had been quite a while since someone had his back--someone with firepower to back it up. It felt good, oddly. Riddick couldn't say he was _glad_ that Jack and Rachel were here with him, but it wasn't looking as bad as he first anticipated.

* * *

The climb was monotonous, and they only asked a few questions on the procedure of the mission during the ascent. Rachel had the hardest time, tiring quickly because it was still an hour before she had planned to wake up and she was still working off lethargy from her early-morning stupor. The basic idea was for Rachel to position herself at one of the grates, shut the lights via her com, and let Riddick infiltrate the Zolus. When he was done, he would get back in the ventilation and nobody would know anything until emergency lighting came online. She had explained he had a maximum of three minutes before those kicked in.

Riddick had also wanted a distraction. Rachel decided to see if she could make it look like a power failure. Deck 3 had been set up with surveillance and keycard-locks. She could override the circuits to the doors, locking in anyone inside the housing units. Riddick had liked that idea very much.

He had told Jack to stay in the vents until he could assess the situation; he didn't plan to use her, but if she could help the situation _safely_ then he was not about to object. The goal was very clear: kill Randal and get the fuck out. The complications were numerous. There were an unknown number Zolus in the area. X was likely unknown terrain with modifications and fortifications made to it. They had an unknown time frame for the amount it would take to find Randal, kill him, and get back to the vents. They had unknown logistics, as well, including enemy organization, concentration, and weaponry.

Riddick was thinking in the same way he had in the Wailing Wars. His goal was to ambush the enemy and get his troops to the destination without friendly casualties. The man had come a long way since his days on BGP-4. As his troops, he knew Jack and Rachel wouldn't betray him. As their leader, had also more experience, more control. Riddick had survived slams, crashes, monsters, and mercs. His target had been sitting pretty in Daedalus all this time. Randal didn't have a prayer.

* * *

They popped up in the outer side of the ring, lower circuit of X. The three slowly worked their way across the tunnel there. Riddick paused at the grate at the mouth of the alley and watched the feet of various Zolus walk about. He directed them to a short drop that took them under the floor. He paused again just before a grate on the main passage. When no one was passing, he moved over to the other side. Jack and Rachel followed his example. He hopped up to the inner level of X's ventilation.

The trio maneuvered into the back of X and no one was the wiser. When they reached _D3, I4-IL_, he nodded toward the mini-map and whispered.

"Jack, you stick here. Mouse, you head to the upper circuit and get yourself in position with the rifle. When it goes black, I'm moving. Remember, anything wrong and you go _up_."

They nodded mutely back at him. Rachel turned around and climbed the ladder to the upper circuit of ventilation. Riddick sat quietly and waited. This was it!

* * *

Rachel pulled out the towel from her backpack and spread it out. She took her time and methodically checked everything was ready. The girl propped her com pad beside the grate where she could peer down with a maximum vantage point. She donned her headset and linked the com with the _Spirit of Langavat_.

The gun hadn't come with a silencer, so she noted that it would give away her position if she fired. If they made it out of this, she was investing in a quality silencer. Rachel popped the clip into the rifle and turned off the laser sighting. In the videogames, it always threw her off for some reason.

'_This isn't a videogame. Your EXP doesn't reset to zero when you die and you don't respawn. Neither will the people you kill. You'll be taking a life. Can't undo that. Don't try to justify it; just understand the consequences. Can you live with that?_'

Rachel paused. This would change her life forever. Could she live with being a killer? ...Could she live without Riddick and Jack? If she failed to do this, one or both of them could die. Hell, _she_ could die, too. This wasn't even something that _had_ to happen. They could have just left.

However, they all made choices. Riddick could have left Randal alone. Jack could have stayed on the ship. Rachel could have not followed Jack. They could have done a lot of things... Could they live with their decisions?

'_I made my choice. I'll _have_ to live with it._'

"Infiltrate the maintenance control. Access the power core."

"Done," Rhad replied into her headset.

She navigated system with her stylus, setting up three phases of power-fluctuation to the lights and locks around Deck 3. The first was a little blink of the lights. The second fluctuation would occur six seconds later and last two seconds; it would lock all the doors. The third phase happened one second later and would take off the lights until the backup generators kicked in. She couldn't disable those without throwing up a red flag on someone's system. That much tampering might set off an organalyzer scan. Since they had Jack's DNA, a scan would definitely not be a good thing.

"Execute on my command..."

She put the stylus away and picked up Junner's gun. Rachel switched the safety off. Her sentiments, emotions, and concerns bled away. They weren't important right now. She needed to concentrate.

"Sic 'em."

* * *

Randal looked up as the lights outside flickered and his com screen went on the fritz. Then he heard the simultaneous lock of all the doors in the corridor. There were shouts of dismay outside. He slowly stood and moved to his door. Modifications to it put it on its own battery and encrypted it with a code only he and his Second knew.

He opened his door and looked into the darkness that now reigned.

"Nicholas," he spoke calmly to the man he knew to be milling about outside.

"Power outage, Sir. People are locked in; we'll have to wait it out. The backup generators'll kick in any minute."

The blonde shook his head and reached for his pistol, "It's not a power outage."

* * *

Riddick lifted his goggles, twisted the vent tool, and thrust the metal shaft into Jack's hands. They'd need it to go through the various hatches. He leapt out and bolted forward. He easily dodged around the confused Zolus who had, for the most part, decided to remain still until they could see enough not to bumble into someone or something.

Shiv in hand, he darted quickly and quietly down the hall, moving around erected barricades and between the guards stationing them. The garrisons were sweeping their rifle-mounted flashlights about, checking on what they could; he avoided those as well. It didn't take long before he was at the innermost sanctum of Corridor X.

The Zolus erected an establishment much as Jack's gang had done. This one, however, was much more professionally constructed and fortified. A man with a pistol stood in the doorjamb. He was looking about suspiciously. Narrowed eyes seemed to focus on him for a second and he quickly moved to the side and closer...

* * *

He thought he saw two glints of light, but when he squinted, they had disappeared. Randal slowly backed into his quarters. It had been a little over two minutes. The generators were due to kick on soon. He turned to where he last heard Nicholas.

"What's the estimate on the generators?"

"Less than a minute. Do you think it's possible someone would try something, Sir?"

Silence.

"Sir?"

* * *

The lights came on outside. Inside Randal's quarter's, the com began to reboot. Riddick had his shiv poised a scant few inches from the man's neck. He strained against the hand on his forearm, struggling to bend his elbow the rest of that space into Randal's carotid.

Neither made a sound; each man silently tried to overpower the other. A hissing exhale sounded, accompanying wide, strained blue eyes. A low growl replied, shined eyes glinting in the shadows.

"Don't move," a third sound joined. The fourth sound was the sound of a flicked safety switch.

The barrel of the rifle entered Riddick's peripheral vision, but he didn't heed it. He was too intent on his kill, on having Randal's blood coat his shiv. Riddick was so close he could almost smell the blood on the shiv seconds from now...

'_...Fuck._'

He disengaged and took a half step back, still completely focused on Randal. If he could get them out, Mouse could nail the gunner. Then he could take care of Randal. He could kick in some grating somewhere out there. Riddick would be on his way to Deck 5 without a sighting by anyone beyond the barricades...

Randal grinned and raised his pistol.

Of course, Riddick reflected, he could have misjudged the situation.

* * *

'_Well, shit. I suppose it _is_ possible for someone to infiltrate the Zolus,_' thought Nicholas.

He kept his gun at the ready. This was unexpected, but Nicholas was prepared for this off chance happening. He decided to stick to his plan.

His assault rifle swung toward Randal, "I said don't move. Drop the gun, Randal."

Randal's piercing blue eyes lanced him.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, Nick?"

"We're gonna sort this out the proper way. Both of you, outside now. You first," he said with a head-jerk to Riddick.

Riddick blinked and looked between them...

'_Looks like we have a three-way showdown,_' the escaped convict thought as Randal dropped his gun.

Slowly circumventing Randal, he backed up toward the door and stood just outside it. Riddick was willing to see where this went--if it got him Randal. Something told him 'Nick' had been counting on this. How or why, Riddick didn't know...

Randal, also at gunpoint, slowly moved to the doorway. He had a stare-down with Riddick, who refused to move out of the way. Nicholas could feel the tension build up. There was something between these two and they were barely keeping themselves from tearing each other apart on sight.

Well, whatever their issues... Nicholas was going to do this the right way: the Zolus way. For too long, the known systems had an entirely skewed view of the Zolus. The Zolus were a bigger name than ever, surely. However, the entire reason behind it disgusted Nick. Many of the senior members thought this way, too. No one could deal with Randal, though.

This would-be assassin, however, had nearly done it. Therefore, in keeping with Zolus law, he would have his chance. Few people used the old codes of conduct. For fuck's sake, few even _remembered_ them.

Nicholas guided them out into the open space outside leader of the Zolus' quarters. He motioned to a Zolus manning a garrison he passed. When the man approached, he spoke lowly to him, "Assemble the commanders..."

All the way down the corridor, the order echoed through various people. Randal's eye narrowed. Who the fuck was Nick to call an assembly? The blonde bristled with barely suppressed rage.

Minutes later, the three fairly marched out into the main passage. By now, the Zolus they passed--those not locked inside the rooms--were amassing behind them and around them. It wasn't long before a crowd of Zolus surrounded the three of them. Out of this crowd, six Zolus stood. They ranged in height, build, and color, but Riddick had no doubts that these were the 'commanders.' This was going less and less in his favor...

"What's the meaning of this, Nick? Who's the Z-less shit?" said a wiry, but hawk-eyed man. His voice was calm, but clipped.

"Unless I'm mistaken, he's the one we've been lookin' for. Killed nine Zolus--almost made Randal the tenth. So... here I was wonderin'... what the fuck for? Who the fuck are you?"

There was an expecting pause and all eyes turned to Riddick.

* * *

Riddick slipped his goggles down.

"Them first nine? Wrong place, wrong time." He shrugged. Then his head turned to the icy-eyed man, "But between me 'n' Randal... it's _personal_."

"Personal my ass, the fuck you think you are coming onto _my_ station and killing _my_ men?" Randal snarled as he glared daggers of hatred into him.

Nicholas cut in, "Yeah, about that... I've been doing some thinking. What's the first code of the Zolus, Randal?"

Randal snarled, "Who the fuck cares? I lead Zolus! _Me_! I won't stand for insubordination, Nick!"

A large, black man crossed his arms. He was one of the commanders, Jerrod. He didn't like how Randal totally disregarded the long-standing customs of the Zolus, either. It went against the grain of the very foundations of their gang. In spite of their ever-growing numbers, it wasn't something he was about to let slide. From the mutters that arose between the other commanders, they shared his sentiments. His voice was deep and intense--as though he was trying to find hidden insult in everything, just _looking_ for that reason to let into someone.

"Nobody fucks with the Zolus, Randal. Old-school Zolus rules... When you front the Zolus, you should know 'em. You goin' where I think you're goin' with this, Nick?"

Nicholas nodded.

Riddick was quiet as he watched the interaction. The gears in his head were rapidly turning, '_Dissent among the ranks. 'Least I'm not on the receiving end, this time..._'

Nick expounded; the small, almost mocking smirk ever-present on his gentle-looking face. To look at him, outside the military fatigues, one might think he was a generally nice person. No one saw the sharp, heated sparks in his brown eyes or the slight twitch of his eyebrows into a frown... not until it was too late.

"We have a rite of passage into the Zolus. Every man here went through it. If you survive, you're a full-blooded Zolus--and nobody fucks with you, 'cause the Zolus got your back. ...Randal, you never went through the rite of passage. Moreover, you killed Zed, our leader.

"I've towed the line and watched you run the Zolus like some personal militia. That's not what the Zolus are about. So... here's how I figure it: we should ghost your ass right here for all the shit you've shoved down our throats.

"Then there's you," Nicholas said to Riddick, "who killed nine of our own. Should ghost your fuckin' ass, too."

"I got dibs."

Nicholas blinked.

"What?"

Riddick pointed his shiv at Randal, "I got dibs. Randal's been on my list longer."

"Cut the shit," Randal snarled, "Who are you?"

Riddick began pacing around the crowd, circling Randal slowly. The Zolus watched him warily. Those goggles hid his eyes from view, but his concentration appeared locked on their icy-eyed 'leader.'

Riddick shook his head, "All this time hidin' on this run-down station make your memory soft? Or maybe them _Sons_ got you feelin' nice and safe..."

'_Sons?_' Nicholas frowned with the thought.

"...Shoulda figured I'd be comin' after you. Ain't a thing in this 'verse that's gonna protect your neck, Randal--not the mercs, not the Sons of Freedom, and sure as fuck not the Zolus."

"You're mixed up with the _Sons of Freedom_?" Nicholas interrupted.

A sudden tide of hushed discussion rushed through the ring of Zolus. He'd always wondered what connections Randal had, where he got his funding and his weapons. Nick never agreed one-hundred-percent with the Alliance, but that didn't mean he wanted anything to do with terrorists. Insane fanatics, the lot of them. There were lines even Zolus didn't cross.

Neither Riddick nor Randal acknowledged his outburst.

A sadistic grin crossed Randal's face, "Richards! I thought you woulda been lyin' in a crater with the rest o' the Devil Dogs."

"_Those were my men_!" Riddick roared. As suddenly as the tone rose, it went stonily calm again, "You think I'd get X'ed out on the Howlin' Planet? You do _not_ know who you're fuckin' with."

"Fuck you, Richards! I got mine and got the fuck out. Martyrs don't get paid, mercs do. You didn't have the _guts_ to lead--spent all that time takin' orders from that general. We were supposed to listen to a pushover you?"

Riddick began closing in on Randal, fist clenched and shiv at the ready. There were things that had been festering in the back of his mind for years. Randal had to die before he could put those issues to rest. He was so close, and it was all but finished...

"I told you, Randal. You do _not_ know who you're fuckin' with. It was supposed to be a simple, quiet job. I'd've kept my head down and gotten out of it with a nice payday. You little _shit_, you didn't just fuck with the Marines..."

He closed the gap between himself and Randal, his animal too impatient for words. The conclusion of his sentence was lost in a growl. Randal pulled out his combat knife from its thigh-sheath, and beckoned Riddick closer. The ex-merc was as eager to settle their dispute as he was. Nicholas, seeing that the two were going to fight come Hell or high water, stepped back and came even with the other Zolus commanders.

Randal feinted first and thrust. Riddick waited it out and sidestepped the slash. He grabbed Randal's knife hand and pulled the man toward his own shiv. Randal seized his wrist and the two were once again locked a power-struggle. They strained for several seconds before Riddick let go of Randal's hand. He ducked as it went searing through the space his neck had been. Big Evil lashed out with his leg and side kicked Randal backward. The blow freed Riddick's hand.

Riddick went on the offensive, this time. He took a page out of Jack's book and faked a left kick and followed by a faked right jab. It took him a step closer and made Randal duck. ...That was when the ex-convict punted the ex-merc in the face with his boot. A tooth went somewhere off to the side when Randal's jaw snapped shut.

Randal sat up and wiped his chin of blood. His glare leveled on Riddick and he stood up.

Riddick's goggles blankly reflected the man's ire, '_Points to Jack for that one, Randal. Get used to it; I got a _lot_ more pain to dish out..._'

They closed again, exchanged a few jabs, and dodged about. While dodging a vertical swipe, Riddick caught a fist above the eyebrow, opening a small cut. He responded with a kick to the Randal's ribs that made the blonde's breathing labored. They continued to circle, making more close calls with blades and a few traded punches or kicks. It was a pitched battle and the combatants seemed evenly matched; at least for a bit.

Their skirmish dragged on a minute longer, with sweats breaking and bruises blossoming. Then both came in with identical diagonal swipes. They caught each other's hands once again and entered a clinch. Randal was the first to send a pair of knees to Riddick's gut. Big Evil grunted, and then checked a third knee with his own. He returned with a knee to the man's inner thigh, and then swung the man away with a roar. Randal fell in a heap after Riddick's toss and rolled to his feet.

"You're just another blue-eyed devil. Think you're badass with your military get-up... your guns... your gang... On your feet, _Lieutenant_. I ain't done with you; not by a long shot."

Randal growled and charged Riddick. The ex-convict responded in kind and they clashed, twisting sideways, and falling to the ground. Riddick had more power behind his lunge and wound up rolling them. They grappled and tried to stab the other. A few superficial nicks were sustained, but it was eventually the ex-con that scored first blood with his shiv.

Riddick rolled to top position and slammed his elbow into the blonde's forehead. When Randal went to block a second elbow with his knife-hand, Riddick grabbed it at the wrist and rolled to the side. He put the ex-merc in an arm-bar and drew his shiv along the inside of his elbow. He severed the tendons and rolled away as Randal dropped his knife.

While Randal let go of his combat knife and let out a stream of screaming curses at Riddick, said ex-con stood and waited to Randal to gather himself. He remained poised, like a lion ready to pounce the moment its prey looked up. He wasn't going to just kill the man; he wanted to utterly _destroy_ him.

"Get up," Riddick demanded.

Randal kept his arm tucked to his side, where it dangled uselessly from the elbow down. The ex-merc slowly got to his feet. A trickle of blood dripped from his fingertips and he kept his injured side away from Riddick. He leaned down to pick up his knife in the other hand.

"Fuck you, Richards," he hissed in a pain- and hate-laced rasp.

* * *

Nicholas had seen the fight between Randal and Zed. It was sudden and quick. Randal had brutally beaten Zed within an inch of his life, and then slit his throat. It was monstrous... That sort of brutality had made him wary of the mysterious man ever since. Then this man, 'Richards,' shows up... and he's worse than Randal ever was. A worse _monster_.

A monster that kills nine men, lines up their corpses, cuts the tattoos off their necks, and stuffs them in their hands. Where were people like that born? What psychotic world bred creatures like this? 'Richards' spoke of a Howling Planet. The Wailing Wars? Was 'Richards' a Marine... another merc?

He seemed to remember some big news coming off that. Well, news different from the whole 'terrorism abounds' that pervaded the news nets. His friends still in the service once told him about a huge stink that hit just about every level of clearance. Something about a bunch of mercs and the Sons of Freedom... He tried to remember what it was. It would come to him, soon enough. His memory rarely ever faulted him.

He read something about it, too... Now it was doubly annoying him that it wasn't coming to him straightaway. What was that headline? Something to do with mercenaries dying. A bunch of them. And that seemed supported by Randal and Riddick's words before the fight. That's when it came back to him, the headline: "RICHARD B. RIDDICK KILLS 500 ON BGP-4."

Nicholas remembered that. His friends had told him Riddick was working in a mercenary outfit that was accompanying the Marines. The news headlines said Riddick killed all the mercs and turned the artillery on the Marines. His friends told a different story. Richard B. Riddick killed the mercs and _stopped_ an artillery bombardment in the process. Judging from the conversation, the latter was likely true.

They'd dishonorably discharged Nick for conduct unbecoming of a Marine some four years before the Wailing Wars began, but he kept in contact with people in the Corps. Some of them died there, fighting the Sons of Freedom. Some of those who died were his friends and squad mates. The few that came back spoke of the sheer madness of the place... the kind of insanity that turns man against man. The constant crying of the planet and the explosions from miles away echoing down the various tunnels made it nearly impossible to feel safe. There was always a haunted look in their eyes when their minds returned to that world.

Now he understood who Randal had fucked with. He understood why nine of the Zolus died as a message to Randal. His frown deepened as he realized that Riddick probably wouldn't give two shits what the Zolus did so long as they left him alone. What was it, though? Was it revenge? Were they just two monsters that couldn't share the same universe? Well, whatever it was, Nicholas didn't want to have to deal with Big Evil.

These two men... these _monsters_ came out of that Hell looking none the worse for wear. He wanted no part of them, large or small. Nicholas had plans for the Zolus and, as he watched these men engage in combat once more, he knew he couldn't let it become a haven for monsters.

* * *

Riddick moved in again. Randal made a lateral swipe with his left hand, which was less accustomed to using a knife. Riddick blocked it with his shiv, snagged the wrist in the same motion, and twisted viciously until he heard the snap of bones. He cut off the ex-merc's shout of pain by kneeing Randal in his already-damaged ribs.

The combat knife fell to the ground. The ex-merc fell back on the sliced arm, winded and pain-stunned, but still conscious. Riddick was breathing heavily, his inner animal raging and ready to tear into its rival. The shiv was slipped away and Riddick moved in for the kill.

The well-maintained lights glinted off the walls of the metal canyon, revealing the gorge below. Smears and droplets of blood marred the smooth surface, practically glowing off the gunmetal grey floor plates. The Zolus watched in hushed anticipation, awestruck by the savage nature of the beast in their midst.

The ex-convict walked around to stand over Randal's head, his frame was tense--as though barely restrained. Riddick crouched down and quietly spoke to the man on a more personal level, his words sounding more like a true growl than any human words.

"You still with me, Randy-boy? I want you to know somethin'. I want you to know who you were fuckin' with. It's Riddick. Richard B. Riddick. _Nobody_ fucks with the Big Evil..."

He reached down and his right hand went up to Randal's neck, pulling him up against his chest. His left arm locked Randal's head in the crook of his elbow. He stood up, dangling the man's body and kicking legs a few inches from the floor. It was in this position that Riddick's hand dug harder into the ex-merc's neck, slowly sinking into the skin with nightmarish strength. Blood began to ooze down Randal's chest and between Riddick's fingers. Riddick gritted his teeth and growled with the exertion; the sound drowned out the strangled, choking groans of the other man. The muscles in his arm and neck strained fiercely, his bloody grip on Randal's neck trembling with the force. Finally, with a primal exclamation, he ripped the skin and a section of the man's throat clear away. The bloody mass fell to the floor along with a spray of blood.

Riddick dropped the body, slowly sifting through the red haze. The scent of blood permeated the air and Randal's body lay still before him. His breathing returned to normal and a single phrase fell from his lips. Later, he wouldn't be able to figure if he meant to say it or not--it was just what came out next.

"...Semper Fi."

* * *

Jack had waited... and waited. She almost jumped out of her skin when Rachel appeared by her. The redhead appeared extremely stressed.

"We have to go. Someone had Riddick and another man at gunpoint. I couldn't get a clear shot at him for Riddick and the other man. I was worried I'd hit him if I took the shot... I followed them and checked the mouth of the Corridor. There's a bunch of Zolus surrounding him!

"He said that if anything went wrong, we were to head for Deck 5..."

Rachel didn't like it, but there were far too many--upward of fifty--to deal with. Maybe Riddick could finagle himself out of the situation, but there was no way they were going to fight their way through them.

"Fuck that! I'm not leaving him to die!" She exclaimed. Jack moved toward the front of the Corridor and kicked out the grating there. She stopped several yards from the eerily quiet crowd of Zolus.

"Jack! Wait! ...Damnit," Rachel muttered and followed.

As soon as the redhead caught up, she saw Jack had a shiv drawn.

"Fire off a warning shot. We'll clear a path for 'im," Jack said.

Rachel didn't know if it would work, but statistically, the fear of being shot could keep most of them from charging. But those with guns... The discharge sounded in the silence like a point-blank thunderclap. Everyone jumped and a large number of them parted to the sides just as Jack had suggested.

* * *

Riddick's head jerked toward the resonating boom. The part in the mass showed Jack and the mouse. He fucking _told_ them to head for Deck 5 in case something like this happened! He didn't suppress the growl that followed; his animal was still at the fore. He slowly stalked toward them.

Almost heedless of the surrounding Zolus, Jack approached him. Rachel wanted to scream in frustration, but maintained her position--a _somewhat_ safe, fifteen yards from the Zolus.

They met at the edge of the inner ring of Zolus and held each other's gaze. She broke eye contact first to glance down at his bloody, right hand, and then leaned to the side to stare at the gory mess behind him. She glared at the corpse for a full three seconds before returning her gaze to those reflective, black goggles.

"You done here? 'Cause I'd like to be the fuck off this station."

He should wring her scrawny, little _neck_! She should have stayed put or, better yet, gone back to the ship. Somehow, though, he had a hard time being as angry as he should be with her. Maybe it was how she blithely took in the death, destruction, and danger around him with more than a pinch of salt. Maybe it was how she looked at him after he had killed someone--unflinching and not disgusted. Whatever it was, he respected it.

"Yeah. I'm done here."

They passed the redhead and continued walking without a backward glance. Rachel was quick to follow them, but only half turned as she walked. The girl gave many glances backward, and the Zolus continued to watch. She was having a hard time believing they intended to... just _stroll_ to the elevator and leave. There was a mob of Zolus behind them!

Implausibly, that was exactly what they did.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Oh, my _God_. It took me _forever_ to get this done! Thank you for bearing with me. I decided not to cut this up into dual chapters or anything for several reasons. One of the foremost reasons is that I just wanted to kill Randal. It's been coming for a while and I didn't have the patience to drag out his demise over another chapter. The second reason was that I felt you, as the reader, deserved more bang for your buck since it took so long in writing this.

If something like this happens again, don't forget to check my profile. I show updates on where I am in the story and approximately how much of the chapter has been written... It also shows what edits I made recently. There's a short blurb on how I am doing that might explain reasons for delays. I try to update it weekly, so you know what's going on.

There's a lot here, and I don't know where I should begin. So, I'll walk you through the important highlights...

Riddick infiltrates Deck 3 through the vents. Reminiscent of Butcher Bay; I actually liked how he used the vents. Couldn't leave it alone. Then there's another Cerberus-C4sper conversation. They're drawing ever closer to righting the wrong that's been done. ...Or are they?

We skip over to Kiara and Marian... I told you I wasn't done with them. Still not, but you'll have to wait and see what other parts they play in this story. Then we have another spar with Jack and Riddick, but this time Jack's got her mind in the gutter. Who can blame her? If that's not bad enough, her sleep is riddled with _naughty_ thoughts! I know; I'm evil.

Finally, a large portion of this chapter is focused on the dynamics between Randal, Riddick, and Nicholas. They each have their own viewpoints and beliefs. The fight, itself, came out to about two pages. Some fights in my story were longer... but I think I'm satisfied with the scene. It showed the proper savageness I was trying to portray. The death of Randal was my finale and I wanted it to stand out... to paint the full extent of Riddick's animalistic rage. In other words, it needed to be disgustingly bloody.

I know I didn't go much into the Zolus' reaction to all this, but I had to cut the chapter somewhere, or it would have just gone on and on. So Chapter 18 will pick up where this left off, 'cept on the Zolus front.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	18. 18: Semper Fi

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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 18: Semper Fi_

Nicholas and the other commanders watched the man squat down next to Randal. They couldn't make out what he was saying, but whatever it was had Randal's eyes widening seconds before he the man put him in a chokehold. Many of the Zolus crowd and a couple of the commanders flinched when Riddick tore out Randal's throat.

Nick simply narrowed his eyes at the vicious end to the match. It took a great amount of strength to do such a thing. However, Riddick's strength didn't disturb him; it was that Riddick could comfortably do such a thing. The man simply looked like he'd finished a strenuous workout. Riddick's face had gone from roiling rage to blank slate immediately afterward. He didn't know many people that could do that and remain impassive.

"...Semper Fi."

Nicholas wasn't sure if he heard right, and Riddick's face gave away nothing. There was a moment of silence and it appeared as though Riddick were taking it all in. Beside him, Jerrod leaned over and whispered.

"Whadda you think? Question him or put him down?"

Nick was quiet for a moment, contemplating it. He wasn't considering those exact options, but the latter was tempting--_very_ tempting. In the end, however, he shook his head.

"No, I think we should just let him walk. I wanna wash my hands of 'im and forget either of them ever existed. This isn't the concern of the Zolus..."

Jerrod frowned, "Nobody fucks with the Zolus, Nick. You said it yourself. He killed nine of our own."

"Let those deaths rest on Randal's shoulders. We need to take the Zolus in a new direction," he glanced toward the larger man with a dark glint in those brown eyes, "What d'ya think of full syndication?"

Before Jerrod could give an answer, a gunshot's echo exploded off the walls... Not to mention it left a smoking dent in the ceiling. The ring of Zolus suddenly opened up to reveal a small, teen redhead carrying a big gauge. She was dressed plainly and wore glasses. She looked a little mousy, which created a ludicrous image. Beside her stood another girl--taller and more intimidating, considering the shiv she had in her hand.

That gave Nicholas pause. Ever since Riddick brandished his shiv... and then had a savage knife fight with Randal, he was starting to take people with blades more seriously than with guns. He put that stupid preconception out of his mind. All weapons were dangerous; it wouldn't do any good to underestimate either girl. The Zolus commander watched as the brunette stalked through the Zolus with hardly a glance to the walls Zolus on her sides.

Something wasn't right with the picture. He glanced to Riddick, who was scowling. He moved to the girl and stared her down. The teenager just peered around him at Randal's corpse and, without so much as a flinch, looked back at Big Evil.

"You done here? 'Cause I'd like to be the fuck off this station."

A small tick developed in his left eye at all the incongruity. Riddick; short teen with a big gun; callous girl with a knife... Where did they all come from? Were the girls youngling monsters, to grow up and become creatures of Riddick's ilk? He didn't like it one bit. More and more, the decision just to get Riddick off Daedalus became more appealing.

"Yeah. I'm done here."

They turned around and left. They left. They just fucking _left_!

Nicholas shook his head. That was fine. So long as they went away, Nicholas was happy.

The whole of the present Zolus watched the three walk a short ways down the main passage and turn down the walkway to the spire. They were just going to take the elevator and go, too. Something about the audacity of them grated on his nerves... but it was probably for the best to just ignore them and let them go. ...Then a thought suddenly came to him. Nick turned to the other commanders.

"Didn't Randal post somebody to watch the elevator?"

One of the commanders answered. He had a hawkish sort of face and a lithe for suitable for sneaking. His name was Jackal, so dubbed by the media long ago during his solo exploits as a thief and assassin. Thoughtfully, he nodded.

"I think it was that psychopath, Mick..."

"You got a radio on ya, Jackal? Get word to 'im--I don't want anyone attempting anything with those three. They'd just be fodder."

Jackal nodded and pulled the small two-way off his shoulder, "Mick. _Mick_. ... Answer your fuckin' radio, Mick." Jackal frowned, paused, and then sighed with a shrug. "Well, I tried. It's his ass. Never liked the freak, anyway."

Jerrod interrupted, "What'd you mean '_full syndication_?'"

This gained every commander's attention and Nicholas nodded. He motioned for the others to follow back into X. At the mouth, he paused and turned back to the ring of Zolus, who were still milling about uncomfortably after the situation. He doubted they'd ever seen anything like what had just happened. He sure as Hell hadn't.

"Someone clean up that trash," he said, spitting at the bloody corpse, "Burn it, jettison it with garbage, I don't care... just get it off Zolus territory. Stand by for some announcements after we're done meeting."

Everyone understood. The commanders were going to meet--likely to have a 'discussion' about who would front the Zolus and what course the gang would take. A small 'discussion' arose among the Zolus as to who would clean up the bloody mess. Many simply walked away. The odd group left standing was likely to curse many times within the next hour or two.

* * *

Her exhales came in short, harsh bursts. Her pallid, emaciated form a counterpoint to the bright red that seeped from her split lip. Her arms had bruises where he'd held her down. She winced and curled in on herself, the burning she felt inside nothing compared to the mere bruises marring her skin. She kept her eyes closed and tried to save her energy. He was never done so soon. When he had recuperated, the bastard would have another go at her--whether she had recovered from the previous round or not. The man was a driven machine.

Things had gotten worse after the other girl killed herself after two months--less people to divide the abuse among them. Not to mention there were only _three_ of them. He hated odd numbers. He never just had one of his pets and let them be. It was either two or four times in a row--never one or three. She, like the other girls, had developed hatred for even numbers and a near pathological fear of odd numbers. When there were odd numbers, he became violent.

One set of salt- and pepper- shakers. A sock without its mate. Three folds in his laundry instead two or four. An odd number of silverware--they'd long ago learned to give him a fork, knife, and _two_ spoons. It didn't matter what the infraction; there was Hell to pay. Even though his voice never rose above a calm murmur as he beat them... and the thrashes always came in pairs.

She'd been subsisting for the past year, his second oldest pet. Finally, she felt she could open her eyes and move her head without passing out. She squinted at the lights above. He'd taken her out of his quarters for amusement on his guard duty. She thought about suicide... but she couldn't let the other girls suffer for her mistake. Sometimes it was _so tempting_.

A set of footsteps sounded in the distance. She stared at the approaching legs through blurry vision. Six feet. _Three_ people. Through her panting, she gave a little whimper.

* * *

"Does that hurt?" Jack asked, poking at a nick on his arm.

"Jack!"

"Sorry... 'Least we stocked up on Nano-Meds."

They approached the elevator and saw a man fixing his belt. As Riddick approached Mick, he was not in the mood to give any quarter. If the Zolus valued his life, he would just-

"'Ey, ain't nobody allowed on or off Deck 3."

'_...Fuck,_' Riddick thought exasperatedly, "You know a blonde guy in camos?"

Mick grinned, "That'd be the top man, himself. You wait a bit and you might get to meet 'im."

Riddick held up his bloody hand, "We already met. Shook hands with his throat."

Mick's eyes narrowed as they passed over the two girls. His focus returned to Riddick and his rifle rose. The Zolus was a little on the heavy side and had a pair of short mohawks running parallel down his head. He also had _two_ 'Z' tattoos, one on each side of his neck. He wore a clean, white shirt, black denim pants, and some brown, leather boots.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but this is Zolus stompin' ground. You just fucked up _real_ bad... an' I don't like odd numbers."

When his pet whimpered again, he snarled, "Shut up, bitch. I might be willin' to let ya slide, though... if you hand over one of your bitches, seein' as I already have three."

Of course, Mick had no intentions of letting the remaining two of them go. Riddick wasn't so stupid. This guy already seemed a few slugs short of a full clip. He glanced back at Jack and Rachel, and then calmly moved in a little closer.

"So which one caught your eye?"

As soon as Mick took his eyes off him, Riddick pounced. The man fell to the floor, arms pinned to his sides by Riddick's massive fists. The firearm slammed to the metal floor and discharged once. The escaped convict head butted the man in the face and broke his nose. He let go of Mick's free hand and punched him in the face again. The pet owner lay stunned, giving Big Evil enough time to draw his shiv.

It sunk between Mick's ribs before he could muster his senses. Just for spite, he stabbed the other lung... Mick didn't like odd numbers, after all.

* * *

The moment Jack heard the whimper, all her attention left Mick and Riddick. She knew he could take care of one asshole Zolus. She looked at the messy, brown hair and the tired, dull-green eyes... took in the malnourished, naked body curled in on itself. It was almost like looking the mirror and seeing herself in Hell. It was one of the Zolus' pets. The gunshot startled her and she looked away to make sure Riddick was okay. He was.

When she glanced back to the Zolus pet, she blanched. The abused girl curled up, holding her bleeding stomach. Eyes wide, Jack rushed over to the other girl. She looked at the blood seeping through the girl's fingers. Too much blood... If she had some Nano-Meds _right there_, she could save the girl. The girl would never survive long enough to make it to the ship, though.

* * *

_ The man screamed. Something about a handle. Fry bent over the man who lay on the ground impaled by a piece of metal. Jack couldn't look away. She could see that he was going to die, but she _couldn't look away_._

_ His glazed eyes stared into nothing and his breath came in short, wet wheezes..._

* * *

"Hurts... it hurts... it h-... hurts..." the waiflike young woman repeated in a mantra, completely consumed in her demise.

She was vaguely aware that Riddick and Rachel were standing in front of her. Jack came to a decision and looked up at the two. Her mind echoed the events five years prior.

"Leave..." she said quietly.

Riddick watched her for a half second, and then walked the short distance to the elevator. He stepped inside and held the door. Rachel remained, transfixed by the sight.

"Leave!" she shouted, jolting Rachel into a hasty retreat.

She looked down at the girl. Slowly, Jack pulled the other girl up against her. Jack flinched when she heard a sharp gasp of pain. She gulped down the rising bile and tried not to think about anything.

"H-hey... What... What's your name?" she said quietly.

The mantra broke, and their green eyes met. Jack managed not to look away. This could have been her. If she hadn't grabbed that screwdriver, she would have been in the same position. This, more than anything, terrified her. It was like watching herself die.

"...Rh-...Rhiana-" the girl coughed moistly, "It h-hurts..."

She tightened her grip on the girl and took a few breaths. Jack fought back the bile again... Then she closed her eyes, trying to distance herself even further from the events. It could have been her. It might as well have _been_ her. Rhiana whimpered again.

Jack harshly jerked her arm to the side. Rhiana went limp.

* * *

Rachel shifted uncomfortably in the elevator, "Should we go back for her? It's been almost five minutes."

"No," he said immediately.

Two minutes and nine seconds later, Jack entered the elevator. There was a small, red stain on her pants leg. Her gaze fixated itself somewhere four feet in front of her. Every few seconds, Jack would rub her hands on the sides of her shirt. She felt extremely... _tainted_.

They rode up the elevator in silence all the way to Deck 5. Rachel continued to glance at Jack, whose distress only seemed to grow with time. After another few seconds, Riddick put his hand on Jack's shoulder. The girl took in a shaky breath and sighed. She hoped Jack could hold it together long enough for them to reach the ship.

Riddick ushered them out into the docking bay and they made it to the _Spirit_ without incident. They were lucky about that; it was likely because it was close to 11:30. Deck 5 was running on a skeleton crew since most of the dockworkers were on their lunch break. Riddick immediately went for the cockpit and began prepping the engines.

In five minutes, Control cleared the _Spirit of Langavat_ and he was taking them out of the jaws of the beast. ...They'd escaped. Maybe not peacefully or especially quietly, but they had. From Daedalus Station he set their course for the planet it orbited, Nemaeus 4. Finally, he sat back and thought over things.

* * *

Ten minutes later saw Riddick moving from the cockpit to the lounge, where he found Rachel silently sitting on the right couch cushion, closest to Riddick's chair. Jack was nowhere in sight. He was never any good with 'talking things out.' It wasn't his style. However, he needed to talk with both of them. He didn't need them ruminating over this stuff.

"I think we need to talk. Supposed to be a good thing to unload after shit like this."

Of course, by 'we' he meant _they_ would talk... and _he_ would listen. He'd done what he set out to do--there were no lingering feelings on the issue. Riddick wasn't about to lose any sleep over the past few days. It wasn't as smooth as he had planned, but it went better than most things in his life.

Rachel simply nodded and he went to find Jack. He checked her room, but she wasn't there. Instead, he found her in the medical bay. She was taking a few pills for a headache. She must have just gotten out of the shower, too. Her hair was wet and she'd changed clothes. He joined her in the room, loading the hypo-gun with a regular Nano-Med cartridge. Riddick ignored Minos as it logged the usage for him under 'minor abrasions and contusions.'

"Lounge when you're finished."

Jack nodded.

He went back to the lounge and rested in his chair. Jack followed less than a minute later. She sat down in the middle of the couch. She was rubbing her temples in slow circles. Rachel was still sitting in the same spot, but had pulled her knees up to her chest. Riddick put up his goggles and leaned forward.

"I don't know how we're s'pposed to go about this, so I'm just gonna ask if anyone's got somethin' they want to get out. Anything you're not comfortable with or botherin' you?"

He was more concerned about Rachel. If she couldn't handle the death and violence that seemed to follow him around, he might just drop her off when they hit Nemaeus. He couldn't have her going on and on about him or Jack if he left her. On the other hand, he couldn't kill her, either. If he could handle things between the three of them, there shouldn't be any problems. At least, that was the theory.

"I'm kind of... stunned, I guess," Rachel said at last, "But we made it out without too many casualties. I'm... a little angry over... y'know. I know it was just a freak chance that the gun went off when you jumped on that guy. More than anything, I think-... I guess I'm sad. It was such a pointless death."

She glanced at Jack, a deep regret filling her. The brunette was still rubbing her temples, staring at the floor.

"Are... Did she say anything?"

When no answer was forthcoming, Jack looked up and noticed Rachel was addressing her.

"Huh?" she replied blankly, then looked at Riddick and shook her head, "I didn't say anything... I just have a really bad headache. Is it okay if I go lay down?"

"I meant the girl," Rachel said a little sharply.

Moving her hand to rub her forehead, Jack frowned at Rachel as though the redhead had lost a few gears upstairs.

"What are you talkin' about?"

Riddick's posture straightened, drawing her attention back to him, "Jack... are you blocking again?"

"Riddick... just-"

"Do _not_ tell me you just blocked that out."

"Blocked _what_?" she growled in annoyance.

He stood up, moving in front of her, "The girl, Jack. In the spire. She was shot."

"I don't... I don't wanna think about that," she finally said, "I just want it to go away."

Fucking Hell, she was doing it _again_--even after that episode before they hit Daedalus, she was _still_ doing it! It pissed him off. Maybe Kiara had the right of it. Someone had to fix Jack before she broke on him. The trouble was he didn't know where to begin. He leaned back from her and stood up, rubbing his somewhat rough scalp...

"Shit, Jack. It's not going to go away just because you _stop thinkin'_ about it."

"Fuck!" the girl growled, holding her palm to her forehead.

* * *

She'd almost had it packed away. She was fucking _inches_ away from closing the door on it. Then Riddick had to come along and make her loose her grip on it. Damnit, damnit, damnit! Why couldn't he just let it go? Jack rested her head on her hand, the memory settling in and nestling deep. It was hurtful; so overwhelming with grief and hopelessness. Tears were streaming down her face, but she ignored them... focused on digging herself out of the hole of negative emotions.

Jack wouldn't have had to worry about it at all if he would have left her alone. She was damn good at it. It would be easier to have it go away. That was twice he'd fucked with her head. It was just more pain for her each time. Granted, after that first time, she pulled herself together well enough... but who the fuck was _he_ to just pick her brain and pull out her worst memories like that?

"You are such a fucking asshole..."

* * *

Riddick just sighed. She was crying, but if she could still insult him, then she couldn't be that bad off. Still, he crouched down in front of her.

"What happened?" he asked, trying not to make it sound too much like a demand.

Jack sniffed wetly.

Motion to his right caught his attention. Rachel was making several gestures to him. He stared at her blankly. The redhead made a wide, closing movement with her arms again, exaggeratedly mouthing 'hold her' to him.

Riddick closed his eyes and let out a silent, martyred sigh. He shook his head lightly. He turned back to focus on Jack, who was still crying steadily. The escaped convict moved to sit on the left side of the couch. Jack knew he wasn't given to large displays of affection or physical contact.

Rachel rolled her eyes at him and stood up. She put her hand on the side of Jack's arm, giving her a little squeeze before leaving. In the same motion, she gently urged the girl to the side. Jack just rocked with the small push and wound up leaning against Riddick. He glared at the redhead's back.

He shifted slightly, moving his arm up and away from Jack. Instead of moving away, she slumped further to the side, her head resting between his shoulder and his chest. Riddick tried to remain calm about the situation and not get annoyed with Jack because she still looked fragile--not to mention she was still crying. He felt stupid with his arm hanging in the air and rested it behind Jack.

When the redhead returned, she had some tissues. She saw their position and a tiny ghost of a smile appeared on her face. Riddick looked supremely uncomfortable. It would be more amusing if the circumstances were different. Rachel held out a few tissues to Jack, who took them and cleaned her nose. Riddick was thankful that she didn't use his tank as a handkerchief.

"Rhiana."

Rachel frowned, "Hm?"

"Her name was Rhiana."

The redhead sat down on Jack's other side, listening quietly.

"She looked... she had brown hair 'n' green eyes... Looked like me. _A lot_," she muttered, going silent for a bit, "An' I just kept thinkin'... if... y'know, if I hadn't killed that one guy five years ago..."

Jack trailed off for almost a minute before she continued, "When I was holding her... she was hurting--s-so much... And... an' she told me her name before I-... before her neck broke. It was Rhiana."

She wouldn't--_couldn't_--forget Rhiana. There was probably no one to remember her. That was Jack's job. If Riddick had let her forget, she wouldn't know the girl's name... If she were going to die, she'd want someone to remember her. She took whatever positivism she could. Though their meeting and near-immediate parting was painful and guilt-ridden, Rhiana would be survived by Jack. Now Rachel and Riddick knew Rhiana... that was good. Jack would want more than one person to know her, too.

Then she became angry. She shouldn't have to remember Rhiana. They were _leaving_. Rhiana should have been able to come with them or... or something! She escaped Daedalus--_twice_. Why couldn't Rhiana escape once? Why did that fucking bastard have to have a gun? Why did the gun have to go off? Why the _fuck_ couldn't Rhiana be alive?

She wanted to kill that man. Riddick had already done it... but she couldn't shake the rage at the unfairness of it all. She knew that not everyone's story would end happily--she had to deal with survivor's guilt once. Fuck, she was still dealing with it. This was just another body on her conscience. How many people had to die so she could live?

"Jack..." Rachel began, "she was shot. Her neck-"

As soon as she started, the girl cut herself off. Jack cringed and seemed to curl in on Riddick. Rachel's eyes went wide with sudden knowledge.

'_Jesus Christ, she _killed_ the girl,_' and on the heels of this thought, '_A mercy kill. Rhiana was in pain and-_'

"Oh, Jack... I'm sorry..."

Words seemed incredibly inadequate at this time, so Rachel just sat close and shared the quiet. Each had their own thoughts, but no one felt like sharing. There was just no way to do it justice... So they sat there, complacent to wallow in combined empathy over the situation. She had never endured a moment of silence so somber.

"S-sorry," Jack said at length, leaning away from him and slowly getting up, "I know you don't like... y'know..."

Riddick gave an ambiguous grunt, but no real reply was forthcoming. Jack left shortly, but returned with some gel, a towel, and two bowls. She ran her fingers over his stubbly scalp and sighed. A little bit of repetition would help keep her mind from spinning into chaos.

Rhadamanthus interrupted the moment, "Attention: Entrance into Nemaeus 4 atmosphere in four hours. Planetary rotation is every twenty-six hours a day, average temperature is eighty-six to ninety-four degrees Fahrenheit. Would you like to set a notification upon atmospheric entry?"

There was a pause as he thought it over; the soothing strokes of Jack's shiv calmed the animal. Eventually, Riddick answered, "Sure."

* * *

It was 11:30 Standard. The Zolus commanders stood around a table that had formerly been Randal's personal command center. Back when Zed was in charge, they would all gather in the room to discuss the direction of the gang--who needed put down, what areas were under control, and what areas needed more 'influence.'

Nicholas stood at the head of the table and began a speech he'd had in his head for several years. The only reason he hadn't done so before was because of Randal's iron grip on the gang. Now the commanders were able to discuss the controversial topics that blonde-haired bastard would never have allowed.

"I know we're all dissatisfied with the way things have been run. Before he died, Zed and I were talking about a few changes--big ones. Syndication. We have the loyalty and the numbers. It's time the Zolus stepped out of the dark and became a major player in the systems."

Jackal stood and asked, "How d'ya plan ta do that?"

This is where things could go bad. As Jackal sat back down, Nicholas took a breath and began, "With those big changes--I'll say now that they sound radical. I don't expect you all to like all my ideas, but hear me out, first.

"First, we need to stop hardcore recreational drugs. Rush isn't just fucking up the Z-less; some of our own are useless... some are _dead_. It's no good. I could give a shit less about our smaller deals; those ones got repeat customers. As it stands, we've lost almost fifteen percent of our buyers because they're either in a hospital or dead."

More than a few commanders glanced around uneasily. He doubted they knew that their drug running was actually hurting the trade. Nick, however, had been paying attention... Randal had been gouging them on their profit and nobody knew it. What the Hell had that man been thinking?

He leaned back in the comfy chair at the head of the table; this was going to be the hardest one to sell, "Second, we need to eliminate the use of pets among the Zolus. To be considered more than thugs, we can't be seen as barbarian rapists. We're a professional gang, it's time we started acting like it. In addition, we need to change our practice concerning protection.

"It we run a protection scheme, people will doubt us and we won't have the trust and loyalty of other syndicates. I propose we actually start protecting the people we're taking money from. Turn it into a lucrative business... a _very_ lucrative business. If we go down that road, we get better profit and word gets out. We take care of our own and fewer people will fuck with us."

Jerrod slowly stood, "A lot of Zolus won't be happy without pet privileges. How do you intend to keep them towing the line?"

Nick nodded in acknowledgement, "It won't be easy. As I said, if we're to syndicate the Zolus, we'll have to civilize. We offer the pet owners the same protection we've always provided and the privilege of their position. If they can't do without pets, then they're likely easily turned against us and are of no use. Basically, they can sink or swim...

"I know that what I'm asking isn't going to happen immediately and I know it's going to be hard. But I think we can turn the Zolus into a major power--one that isn't dependent upon other sources like the weapons and funding Randal got from the Sons of Freedom. We would be a self-sustaining power..."

This, the other commanders seemed to like. He saw several nods in agreement. They could all see the benefit of what he was proposing. Obviously, there were kinks and conflicts to work out, but that wasn't for now. This time was just to hear his plan. They could always finalize everything later.

"That brings me to my final point. We safely fence all the weapons Randal got from the Sons of Freedom-"

Several commanders stood, immediately protesting the loss of firepower. He was expecting this and made a calming gesture. After the various protests--all of which he patiently withstood and acknowledged--the other commanders sat. Nicholas wouldn't have gotten this far without a plan and he _obviously_ didn't intend to sell the Zolus up the river without paddles.

"We sell the weapons from the Sons of Freedom... and use the money to buy better weapons--better protection not spoon fed from fucked up terrorists. I can fence those weapons for twice what we bought them...

"I'm proposing we stop selling weapons and start buying them for ourselves. We've been giving guns and ammo to the big powers in the known systems... and if we're going to _be_ one of those big powers, we'll need our own guns."

Jerrod stood again. Nicholas anticipated him, "You wanna know where I can sell 'em."

The large, black man just nodded and sat back down. He always trusted Nick to have a plan, but he was extremely pleased to see that the fellow commander was covering all his bases.

"I know you won't like it, but I'm suggesting we sell the weapons to the military. They'll pay top dollar to get those guns from terrorists and off the market. With the UDs we get from them, we'll be able to buy our own shit on the various black markets. Twice the number, twice the quality.

"And there's something else," he said before the murmurs could overpower his ideas, "Nobody fucks with the Zolus. We need to get that point across. To do that, we need a display of force... At the same time, I don't want to waste time, energy, and money. So I've been thinking about displays of force we could get _paid_ for..."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Nick's lips quirked just slightly and those brown eyes darkened and glinted like obsidian gems. The few that knew him well recognized this as his vicious side. Nicholas's eyes turned to the lithe, hawkish commander.

"Jackal... you _happy_ to be retired?"

Jackal raised a brow.

"What would you say if I told you that the Alliance would not only sanction you to do the same shit you did before and during your time with the Zolus, but that they would _pay_ you--profitably--to do it?"

"Pay? How profitable?"

The smirk widened, "_Very_ profitable. Do you know how many millions of UDs they spend training those black ops commandos and covering their tracks? Roughly 120K per hit... sometimes more. Every special-trained member in a squad is worth 40K. You could get paid half that for a major hit..."

Jackal's brow rose, "The _Alliance_... would pay me _80K_ to kill someone?"

"Dignitaries with diplomatic immunity, politicians, and _all_ those red-tape generators that the Alliance can't touch either because of their policy or the person's publicity... All the dirty work that they _can't_ do that they bitch and moan about..." Nicholas canted his head to the side, dark eyes narrowed with mischievousness, "Yeah, I think they'd pay you 80K _easy_ to get rid of their problems. And not just the Alliance. We could work contracts with numerous clients. You're good at it, Jackal... why not get rich off it?"

The more he talked, the more he could see the others coming around to his idea. Finally, he stood up and took a breath. Nick looked at the clock and grunted. It was 12:00 Standard. Then his eyes scanned the commanders.

"Don't make up your minds, yet. Let's break for lunch and let it all sink in. We'll come back to it in an hour and you can bring your ideas and concerns back. It'll take a while to get this all worked out, but I have faith we can take the Zolus to newer and greater heights."

* * *

Jack sighed as she lay on her bed. She'd spent the better part of the day doing homework and now it was 13:00 Standard. The street rat needed that sort of mundanity in her life, right now. There was rarely a dull moment with Riddick--that was for sure. She had almost forgotten the rollercoaster life that came with his presence. Sure, it was a little hectic and, at times, painful... but without the pain, the better moments wouldn't be as sweet.

Rolling over toward the nightstand, she pulled open the top drawer. Her hand went inside and paused. Frowning, she groped around a bit. Where was that piece she had been working on before they hit Daedalus? Her works-in-progress were _always_ on the side of the drawer closest to the bed. She sat up and looked in. _Nothing_ was in its original place! Her face went bright red.

She immediately got up and stormed into the lounge, where Rachel was playing a game on the com. Upon seeing Jack's expression, the redhead moved her avatar to the safety of a city and saved her progress. Sitting back, she gave the brunette her full attention.

"Have you been in my shiv drawer?" she asked without preamble, her face still slightly red.

Perplexed, Rachel canted her head to the side, "Uh... no. Why?"

"Someone was in my _shiv drawer_! Who else has been on the ship?"

Blinking, Rachel thought about it. The answer came to her quickly, "Well, when I came back to the ship for some breakfast on Tuesday, I didn't want to walk alone, so Micah came with me. I fell asleep while waiting for my food-"

"_Micah_ was in my shiv drawer?" Jack said with a near-hysterical high pitch to her voice. Her face went from red to a deep crimson, "Holy _shit_..."

The brunette covered her face with her hands and sat down on the arm of the couch. Micah had seen her shiv drawer! That was private! You didn't just... just go through people's special cache of weapons without their permission. She put a little bit of herself into every blade she made. Those were tiny pieces of her soul! That _Micah_ of all people had seen her works--some of which even Riddick hadn't seen--mortified her.

"Relax, Jack. It's not like he went through your underwear or anything."

'_Underwear... _underwear_?_' Jack thought, then looked at the other girl quizzically, "Why the Hell should I care about _that_?"

Rachel stared at her for a moment. Well, no one said Jack was a typical girl. Once again, she found another 'Jack-gap'... another facet of her friend that just didn't jive with the rest of the world... that set her apart from the mainstream person. She shook her head and smiled a bit.

"Never mind, it's not important. I'm sure Micah didn't understand. If he had known, he wouldn't have done it."

Jack gave a slight mutter to that and wandered back to her room. She stood in front of her drawer and resituated everything to her satisfaction. Finally, having her private drawer sorted, she picked up and gently held the Evils. She couldn't _believe_ Micah had gone through her shiv drawer! After running her fingers over the sheath for Big Evil, she blushed and put them both back. Now wasn't the time to fantasize over seeming impossibilities.

_ 'Then you'll just have to make him notice you,' Lauren said._

_ 'What do you mean, _make_ him notice me?'_

_ ..._

_ '...you shouldn't even have to try too hard to get him all riled. If he's like most men, he'll feel like his control over you is breaking; he'll try to fix that attention on himself--to get that 'control' back, which is exactly what you want.'_

Firmly, she shut the drawer. ...Maybe later. First, she'd have to find a way to draw attention to herself. She didn't have the tools to do so. Rachel had helped her get attention at the dance. Perhaps she should have paid more attention to what the other girl had been trying to explain to her about fashion and image...

* * *

Kiara sat behind the desk at _Madame Marian's Roses_. Jack, Riddick, and Rachel had left by now; she was sure of that much. It was 15:00, and they'd planned to be gone by this morning. If they had failed, then the Zolus would have made an example out of them. If they succeeded... then the whole station was supposedly going to fall into chaos.

That was why she was so on edge. If this Randal person was dead... then why hadn't there been any reaction? Why weren't the Zolus ripping apart Daedalus looking for the killers and questioning everyone. Instead, they were eating, sleeping, drinking, and fucking as normal. ...She should know; one of them came in about an hour and forty-five minutes ago. His two-hour limit was almost up, but she didn't know what she would say to the Zolus if the time came...

Regardless, she continued to worry. She worried for Pan and the rest of the gang... and she worried for Marian and the other girls. Something had to happen--some news or activity. Things wouldn't stay the same after the Zolus head just fell off.

It was too quiet.

* * *

"Mandatory assembly in fifteen minutes. All Zolus report," said a radio that sat on the nightstand in a cozy little room inside _Madame Marian's Roses_.

"Shit, fuck, Hell!" exclaimed Benjamin Coleman.

He rolled out of the bed and to his feet, hastily picking up his clothes. Ben pulled up his pants and slid on his shirt. The man rushed, practically jumping into his boots and throwing on his vest. He looked around somewhat frantically for the various things he had discarded.

"Here," Zoe said from the bed, holding out his belt.

"Thanks," he muttered, "...Sorry, babe. Gotta go. Maybe tomorrow-"

"That's fine. Now go or you'll be late!"

He said grabbed his radio clip and fit it on his belt, then headed toward the door.

"Blitz!"

Ben turned to Zoe just in time to see his radio soaring through the air. He caught it, snapped it onto his clip, and rushed out the door. The Zolus came down the steps two at a time. He stopped at the desk, dug in his pocket for a UD chip, and tossed it on the desk. The man was halfway across the room before it slowed its spinning.

* * *

Kiara stopped the chip and glanced at it, "This is a five-hundred UD ch-"

"Leave it for her," the Zolus called over his shoulder--and then he was out the door.

Half a minute later, Zoe Krieger came down the stairs; her black hair was in disarray and her dress hung off her loosely, none of the fastenings done. The woman was still barefoot. She held a keycard in her hands.

"You forgot your--_damn_."

Zoe sighed, and then her ice-blue eyes flicked over to Kiara and she blushed slightly.

Kiara raised a brow and cleared her throat, "Your boyfriend left you somethin'."

Zoe came over to the desk raking her fingers though her hair. She sorted herself out as best she could. She watched Kiara insert the chip into the register and subtracted the charge.

"He's not my boyfriend," she muttered, her blush intensifying.

After a few keystrokes, Kiara began dictating, "You know we charge eighty-five UDs. You get eighteen percent, which gives you fifteen UDs." After uploading the seventy UDs to the master-chip, she put Zoe's cut on Benjamin's chip. She pulled out the chip and handed it to Zoe, "So the rest... he gave to you."

Zoe took the chip and looked at the tiny digital screen on the chip. It read _430_. Her jaw dropped. Her pale blue eyes looked up at Kiara, who smiled mischievously.

"Nice tip for 'not your boyfriend.'"

"Um, I'm-" the woman said, vaguely pointing toward the steps. Her eyes remained glued on the chip, "...gonna..."

She watched from the desk as Zoe wandered back to her room. Kiara smirked when she heard a small squeal and the following giggle just before a room door closed. It was amazing people could still find happiness on this station. If that Zolus could make Zoe happy, maybe they weren't _all_ bad. She couldn't forget that they likely had drives and ambitions; however they ended up as a Zolus, they were still people...

People were driven by urges. Some of those urges were negative--like revenge. She had to wonder what that would mean for Zoe and Ben when this bubble of stagnancy finally burst. Kiara was tense the entire night clear through the next morning. Something _had_ to happen.

It was just too damn quiet...

* * *

FRIDAY

Lucien Academy's headmistress sat down at her desk after making her usual morning rounds. Ms. Satou liked to keep up with the happening around the school--she couldn't do that from behind her desk... she just liked the students to _think_ she could. A little bit of false omniscience helped keep order. Logging into her com, she began checking over her scheduled meetings, including one for the Helion Council.

At 10:07, her com beeped. She asked Mr. Deckard to set up some notifications on it whenever there were new entries to Audrey Knight or Rachel Rileigh's submission folders. Frankly, she was curious about Rachel's prowess. Even Mr. Deckard's classes did not include such forbidden topics like breaking encryption and the subversive means of accessing backdoors to networks.

Rachel was turning out to be almost as much of a mystery as Audrey had been. Just how intelligent was that girl and how much could she really do? Even though she expressed her desire to go through other classes at the same level and speed as her peers, the little genius was obviously continuing independent studies; the things she was doing exceeded even Mr. Deckard's attempts to understand.

She was aware that Mr. Deckard had been using his own knowledge to encrypt his files--he did this to prevent the students from cheating with all the tricks he taught in his Com Tech classes. Even so, here were her assignments for Mr. Deckard's Advance Com Technologies and Calculus. Rachel must be frustrating Mr. Deckard...

* * *

"Did you hear," asked a voice to Cassie's left.

She looked up in time to see Lynne Fortuna sit down with her lunch tray. The two had been talking off and on and she found that she liked the girl's sense of humor and general attitude. They had only talked briefly at the dance, but she could understand why Rachel had befriended the girl. She was very understanding and easy to talk to on just about every topic.

Rach had always been a smart girl, and Lynne's intelligence--while admittedly higher than her own--was not forced upon her. Some people in this school were very smart and had egos large enough to suffocate a pachyderm. With the departure of Rachel and Audrey, she had become fast friends the dark-red haired, green-eyed girl.

"Hear what?"

"Audrey and Rachel's homework was submitted again," said Lynne as she unpacked her lunch.

The redhead picked various containers out of a lunchbox. First were a heat-retaining tray of chicken tempura and a small cup of rice. Then she pulled out a small cup of noodles and a small thermos of tea. Finally, she retrieved some chopsticks. Cassie eyed the amassed meal in front of the other girl...

Lynne noticed and grinned, "Something my parents sent me. They're ecologists and they were just on their way back to the Helion System. E-Co--a Company-run ecology organization--contracted 'em for a job in New Hong Kong before they managed to get back, so they sent this ahead as an apology for the delay. When they get back, they're going to take me on an internship; I've already got it worked out with the school..."

"Anyway, Mr. Deckard wasn't happy this morning. He's changed the encryption twice in the past two weeks, added a filter, and password encoded his submission folder. He only opens it up at the end of class for us submit work."

Cassandra just nodded. She didn't know much about coms, but she took Lynne's word for it that those were a lot of security measures. What with the messages on hers and Mrs. Rileigh's coms, she wasn't _shocked_, but she was slightly surprised. Sending a message under an alias and breaking through security were two different things.

"And their assignments still got through?"

"Yeah, right in the middle of our Advanced Com Tech class! Mr. Deckard's com started beeping and, after he checked it, he was really grumpy," Lynne said with a slightly sardonic laugh.

Cassie gave a laugh at that, too. She wasn't a huge fan of Calculus and Mr. Deckard didn't even try to make it interesting. He just sort of... droned during that class. She didn't _dislike_ him, or anything, but she couldn't say he was her favorite teacher, either.

"We're all watching it. It's kind of like watching a battle of wills. He'll make it harder to crack and she just hacks in. Rachel claimed not to know much of anything about coms, but she always helped me out when I didn't understand something. I knew it was a little strange... but now she's one-upping Mr. Deckard!

"I have a feeling that Riddick has his hands full..."

Cassandra blinked and frowned. She didn't normally discussed 'Riddick topics' with anyone at school. After the merc incident, not many people were comfortable talking about the escaped convict. It hit too close to home; made them feel less secure.

"Um... how do you figure?"

"Well, if rumors are true, then Rach's with Riddick. So he's got two teenagers on his ship; one kicks ass and the other's been hacking into our databases--kinda makes you wonder what else she's into, y'know? Add to this fact that they're both girls, and I can only imagine how a big, manly guy handles a situation like that."

"I guess you're right. Don't you fear for them? He's supposed to be dangerous and all that. He could hurt them or worse," Cassie said, spouting the rhetoric that had circulated the school for days.

Lynne scrunched up her face and shook her head, her short hair shaking along, "Not really. I have a feeling they're being treated pretty good..."

"You get a lot of _feelings_."

Lynne's eyes went widen for a moment and she grinned somewhat nervously. It made Cassandra frown in curiosity. The redhead was quick to explain.

"It's... it's just a turn of phrase. Picked it up from my parents, I guess. I like to observe and calculate. You noticed how when Riddick and Audrey fought, that he was always careful not to knock her out or anything? You _know_ he could have--he looks like he could wreck a building!

"And then with that mercenary guy... Audrey could've killed him and Riddick could've just left, but something made him take her with him. You don't think he'd go through all that trouble to take her with him, then turn around and kill her... That wouldn't make any sense."

The blonde blinked and admitted, "I was a little too scared to think about it much. The details kinda meshed into one, big panic episode..."

"Hey, you ever tried shrimp lo mein?"

Blinking at the sudden topic change, Cassie shook her head.

"Try some," Lynne enthused, expertly gathering a piece of shrimp and some lo mein in the chopsticks. She held them out for Cassandra.

The girl accepted somewhat abashedly and wound up having to slurp up a stray noodle. She blushed, but nodded that it was good.

* * *

After lunch, the girls went to Phys. Ed. Cassandra changed quickly and managed to find a few minutes before class to talk to Zimmy. Alexis, for her part, was still summing up her plans for Eve Logan. As far as the woman's recovery was going, she could be up--although on crutches--in roughly a week to a week and a half.

The 'retired' marine had been checking up on the pair of mercs. Terry Chen had come around and Eve had informed him of the situation and offer (in addition to tearing him a new asshole for firing a grenade inside the school). She was swiftly coming to like that woman...

"Mrs. Zimmerman, have you heard anything new about Jack or Rachel?"

Alexis shook her head, "I'm afraid not. I've got every ear listening, though."

"There are rumors that Rachel's with Riddick... I know that and you know that, but not many people know her well enough to make that kind of assumption. How'd even the thought of it get out? At best, I would have assumed rumors that she ran away; I mean, it kind of jumps logical thought unless the idea was planted there..."

News of the rumors threw the Spec Ops officer into a frowning anger. Why hadn't she heard about that? Where were her informants, goddamnit? She couldn't afford this sort of oversight! A lack of information in this field meant lives were lost...

Cassie seemed to shrink a little bit under her glare before Alexis realized it was aimed at the girl. Quickly, she pulled it back and shook her head.

"No, I didn't know that. Thank you for telling me. It seems I need more ears listening. If you could, just keep looking for any news you can. I'm trying to get in contact with Rachel... and maybe Riddick. I could use all the help I can get."

Cassie nodded, already sensing this was more important that she previously knew. It felt good to be productive. To have power and shape events that happened in her life and others' lives. After the mercenary incident, she felt like she had precious little control over anything. She had spent the days off school with her parents, taking up as much quality time as they could devote to her. The need to know they were there--for however long she could keep them--was the reassurance she needed to deal with the shock of the school attack.

The girl could finally understand why Jack wanted to go with Riddick... When someone could be taken from you at the pull of a trigger or the press of a button, you wanted to savor every moment you had left. Quietly, she left the room and joined the rest of the girl in the locker room while waiting for Zimmy to start Phys. Ed. Maybe some mindless dodge ball or kicktoss would take her mind off her disheartening thoughts...

* * *

After Phys. Ed., Alexis was free for the rest of the day and, feeling the need to relax, decided to clock out early. She stopped by her house to change clothes and decided that a few round of beers would go a long way to ease her stress. Or maybe a few (but not _too_ many) shots...

'_Yeah..._'

Her com chimed, and she was half tempted to let it go to messages.

'_... ... Damnit._'

She moved to the com and sat down. It was a vid-call, not audio-only. Not many people that she knew requested video. She didn't recognize the address, but she accepted the call with a shrug anyhow. Alexis set her face into a stony stare as the screen blinked on.

"Yes?" was her only greeting.

The man in front of her was nondescript, but somehow familiar. She took in the intense look in his eyes and immediately tagged him as military, save that he wasn't in uniform. He had a tattoo of some sort on his neck, which she couldn't remember any of her colleagues having...

"Zimmy? That's you, isn't it? I tried calling Spec Ops, but they said you'd... _retired_."

"You've got me, alright. I'm sorry, but I can't place you."

"But Spec Ops don't retire...? Anyway, it's been a while--it's Nick. Nicholas Saint August," the man finished softly--as though he didn't want to insult her.

That's when recognition hit her. The last time she'd seen him had been four months after his hearing. Conduct unbecoming over a fucking bar fight... some over-developed sense of chivalry, it got him the boot out of the Corps.

"_Saint Nick_?" she said, realizing just after she said it that he hated the handle.

He visibly flinched, "Uh... yeah. This isn't a completely social call; but how are you, are you still with the Devil Dogs? I mean... you can't just... _retire_."

"I'm more aware of that than you know... Actually, I've recently been dragged back to active status. What about you? I haven't heard anything from you since..."

He sensed her hesitation and forged onward, "The court martial. I know. I just... need someone to talk to, right now. Someone that knows the score. I'm in a good position, right now, and I need a few people willing to build some bridges."

Alexis frowned. She didn't like where this was going, but she was willing to hear him out, "Go on."

"After I lost my family, you came by and scooped me up. Motley bunch of scraps like us under you... perfect team--perfect family. Then I lost that family-"

"Because of some drunk in a bar!" she couldn't help but add, "Jesus, Nick-"

The brown-eyed man shook his head and she caught sight of the tattoo--it was a single letter, a '_Z_'. She tried to divine its meaning, but it was too vague. It continued to bother her because she knew it was significant.

"I'm not talking about that..."

The memory came to her--of an impersonal message sent to her com while she hovered in that warship above that godforsaken planet when her boys were murdered.

"...Oh," was all she could muster to say.

"I was in touch with a lot of them after the court martial--we'd leave messages when we could. But after the Corps... I needed to belong. I needed a family, someone to have my back. It wandered here and there, and I eventually found another. It's rough around the edges, but I'm working on it."

Alexis stopped beating around the bush, "The tattoo. What's it for?"

"It's a symbol of fidelity. I'm part of a... group, now. The Zolus."

She groaned, "Fucking Hell, Nick..."

"I didn't call you to argue that fact. I have a rank here... responsibilities. I'm not leaving," He paused after those forceful statements, taking a moment to recollect himself, "I have two things on my agenda. I'll need your help--your connections."

"Those bridges you wanted to build."

Nicholas nodded.

"I'll get to that in a moment. I coulda talked to anyone about Zolus business, but I wanted to talk to you. I called you because of the whole mess on BGP-4... I called because the matter's closed," he said with equanimity.

Her eyes searched his for a moment, her own narrowing. Nick had matured... but he also looked more like a leader, more experienced--she hesitated to call it jaded. She could almost call him her peer; she had hoped that one day all her boys would develop into leaders. After the foolish fight at the bar, she had mostly given up on Nicholas. Alexis regretted that, now.

"Closed? How?"

"I'm a commander in the Zolus, Zimmy. We used to be led by a man named Zed. Then, from out of nowhere, this new guy--Randal--shows up and walks around like he owns the place. Walked through Zed like he wasn't even _there_. One of our own Spec Ops couldn't have done it better.

"Then he up and announces that he's taking over the Zolus. Things went bad for a while. But he pissed off the wrong people and wound up dead. Turns out that Randal was second in command in that merc group accompanying our platoon; he defected to the Sons of Freedom..."

Zimmy's brows rose. This Randal was responsible for her boys' deaths. She finally had a name to put to all the grief she went through. Nick still hadn't told her yet how the matter was 'closed,' and knew there was more to the story, so she patiently listened to him.

"Anyway," Nicholas continued, "their leader, he tracks 'em down and kills the _whole_ mercenary accompaniment. He missed Randal, though. Then he manages to escape BGP-4 before anyone picks him up. Just disappears off Alliance radar, as far as I can tell... like a phantom."

"So, this merc outfit leader... he finds Randal and nearly kills him in the _heart_ of the Zolus. Zimmy, we had barricades, garrisons, guards--the whole nine yards! That shouldn't have been possible.

"Randal called him Richards, but that wasn't his name. It took me a bit, but I remembered reading about that fiasco. You might have, too. I managed to put a name to the face. Couldn't really believe it at first, but it was all there in front of me..."

By now, Alexis's mind was far in the past, she was filling in all those blanks. How the Hell had her boys been bombarded by the mercenaries' artillery? Who killed the mercenaries? This man--the man that wasn't 'Richards'--had cleaned up his own mess. If she had arrived at the correct conclusion, then she owed this man for the closure she suddenly felt.

"So who was this 'Richards'?"

"It was Riddick," he said succinctly. Then, with a frown, his tone dropped, "You should have seen it, Zimmy... the man's a monster. He ripped Randal's throat out with his _bare hands_. Still, that wasn't the oddest part of the whole episode earlier today--and that's saying a lot. You'll never guess who showed just after Riddick."

Alexis thought about it and came back with an informed guess, "A girl... two girls?"

It was Nicholas's turn to blink, and then he grinned, "Still the same Zimmy--always two steps ahead of the game. Who are they?"

Alexis sighed. She could be candid with Nick. Who the Hell would he tell and what purpose would it serve, anyway? Not the Zolus. That was a point of contention and it made her feel bad. To have been driven from the Corps to, of all the possible groups, the _Zolus_... Still, he was a grown man and she had to let him live his own life--he wasn't one of her boys, anymore.

"I'm teaching Phys. Ed. on Helion Prime, now. They... were two students of mine. I'm currently trying to contact them. I don't suppose they're still _there_, are they?"

"Damnedest thing, Zimmy. This mousy, little redhead..."

"Rachel," Zimmy supplied with a sigh.

"...she fires off a warning shot with a high-tech assault rifle. Definitely a custom piece. So, obviously, people go scattering. And then there's this other girl--little taller, more assertive. Well, this little brunette thing just strolls up through the other Zolus and tells him she wants to leave. So he just... just _leaves_ with them. Not a fuckin' care in the world!"

Zimmy was quiet for a moment, assimilating all the facts. Riddick was the one to set things to rights--killed the traitor that killed her boys. It was a surprise, but she rolled with it. Jack was there with him; she half-expected that to be the case, anyway. However, Rachel... she was definitely a wildcard. Even knowing that Rachel was a genius, it simply didn't prepare her for that last bit.

"Rachel... short girl, red hair... _she_ was carrying the rifle? That... doesn't sound right. Did they look like they were okay? Not that I think Riddick would have done anything, but I have to ask. Rachel, at the very least, and possibly Aud-... possibly Jack are my responsibility."

Nicholas nodded, "That was her, alright. High-caliber rounds, she was using, too. That was _not_ an idle threat she was carrying--probably woulda mowed down more than a few in the ranks if things turned ugly. The way she held it, she _had_ to know what she was doing; she handled it better than some of the Zolus under my command."

This only made the Lieutenant General frown. Where had Rachel learned to handle firearms? She _knew_ there was no way the girl had handled anything like that while on Helion. _Someone_--not the least Kristen, Rachel's mother--would have noticed. She sighed; Rachel really was just as much of a mystery as Audrey.

'_I need to get in contact with that girl..._' the woman thought with another sigh.

"So which d'you prefer: testosterone-driven men having pissing contests or a bunch of gossiping teenagers PMSing?"

She could tell that Nick was trying to cheer her up. It worked. Her smirk widened slightly. Alexis pretended to contemplate it for several moments and then shrugged.

"Well, the girls tend to learn a bit quicker..."

He took on an expression of mock outrage, "That's unfair! They didn't have to learn advanced warfare tactics!"

They shared a laugh, but when it was over, she could tell Nicholas was already moving on. He proved her right moments later. Those soft, gentle-puppy eyes glinted something dangerously. Saint August had always had that dual nature; one moment, you were talking to Nicholas, a somewhat over-chivalrous man... and the next, you had _Saint Nick_, a hardened operator prepared to engage the enemy with extreme prejudice.

He simply excelled at planning--he could outmaneuver someone by several steps until it was only a matter of _how_ he neutralized the target, never _if_. His offensive forte was explosives and sniping. Once he properly assessed a situation, it usually wasn't long until everything went his way.

She remembered how he got his nickname. There was a Christmas function where various planetary governors gathered at a giant hotel to discuss some minor topics while enjoying food and dancing. A reliable informant gave them intel that there was going to be a hit. Nicholas set up his charges in one of the ambassadorial suites and picked off their assassin, then shot key members of the terrorist cell to manipulate the others into retreat. Predictably, they went for cover--right into the suite. The precision-planted explosives wiped out everything inside the room, but left the rest of the hotel--including adjacent rooms--undamaged.

While Alexis conducted a somewhat informal debriefing, the Head of Security had come over to speak with them. Congratulations were dispensed and Nicholas parted with a '_Merry Christmas_.' He had his rifle disassembled and in easy-carry duffle bag by that point; the duffle bag was slung over his shoulder like a sack of diabolical presents. The Head of Security made the crack about Santa Clause and ever afterward, his squad mates had called him '_Saint Nick_.'

She came out of her reverie just as he began speaking.

"Zimmy... I need to talk some business with you. I made a proposition to the other Zolus commanders, today. ... We're going in a new direction. Randal had all sorts of connections with the Sons of Freedom and I'm cutting them. Still, we have a surplus here..."

"A surplus?" Alexis asked.

"Weapons, drugs, shit like that. I want to draw up a few deals with the Alliance. I know they'd love to get those weapons before they hit the black market. The Zolus are willing to ship 'em--for a cost, of course."

"Of course," the Lieutenant General nodded. '_Probably charge the Alliance out the ass, but it could be worth it._'

"Second, we have a number of... professionals... among the Zolus. Professionals that, like myself, I'm sure wouldn't mind a little extra income. What I'm offering is a bridge over all that red tape...

"You keep your operatives on hand for those _big_ emergencies... and you can contact us for those _other_ jobs. You know the ones I mean."

Alexis nodded again.

"It couldn't be traced back to the Alliance, and Zolus are pretty good about taking care of their own..."

The way he said that, she was sure he meant it. Most trails just went cold once authorities discovered that a Zolus was behind a crime. Even the few Zolus in slams were nigh untouchable. '_Accidents_' and disappearances were rampant with people that wound up on the wrong side of that gang.

"Anyway," he said, "I knew I could trust you not to get sanctimonious. I was hoping you could point me to the right people... I want to negotiate something. Like I said, I'm taking the Zolus in a new direction--I'd rather have deals with the Alliance than have to fight them every step of the way."

They both knew that the Alliance had 'dirty' deals. They contracted outside 'free-agents' and turned a blind eye to certain activities when it benefited the bigger picture. That was just politics... necessary evils. The woman sat back, running her fingers through her hair.

"I'll see what I can do. Gimme a week--this whole Riddick business is kind of swamping me at the moment."

The Zolus commander nodded, "You look tired. Don't wear yourself out."

She grunted.

"I have to get back to the others. Good luck, Zimmy. ... Semper Fi."

Alexis smiled a bit, "You, too Nick. Semper Fi."

The com-screen blanked. After sitting there for a few minutes, she shook her head a chuckled a little bit. The Lieutenant General wasn't exactly sure what she found amusing and didn't feel like analyzing it right now. No, she had some drinks waiting for her at her favorite bar.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Well, it took a while, but I got through another one. I know these aren't coming out as fast as they used to, but I have yet to sit down and plan out the minor points. I'm free-floating from one major plot point to the next from here on out, so I might just take some time to plan things out more concretely with K-monster.

As for this chapter, I wanted something that would impact the characters of the story on an emotional level. So far, not a lot has happened that had a profound and deep effect on anyone's psyche (barring Jack's various repressed memories, which haven't actually happened in the time period of this story). And you need a little tragedy here and there to make the world turn.

This chapter might not rate high on the optimism scale, but it wasn't meant to be happy. It's kind of the end of a dark time. There were a few lighter moments, but things are going to start becoming less happy-go-lucky as the chapters progress and we get further from Helion, our starting point.

There will be ups and downs through the story, so wait long enough for the rebound and maybe everything will turn out good... maybe.

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	19. 19: Old Beginnings, Old Wounds

19

"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 19: Old Beginnings, Old Wounds_

Nemaeus 4 was a counterpoint to Helion Prime. The planet was comprised of rock, dust, and sand. On the rocky plains, miniature strongholds dotted the land. These cities were a mixture of industrial and metropolitan life. Travel between the cities was always dangerous; sandstorms often caught the unwary hover-car in the desert regions between the rocky plains and mountains. Drifts came suddenly and hard around the mountains and made landing any aircraft or hover-car extremely hazardous even to the experienced. The planetary government had built a complicated weather watch to predict the formation of the sandstorms. Only luck helped those who chose to live in the mountains.

The indigenous life consisted primarily of large, ant-like insects with more legs than most things ought to have. These formicids lived in large hives made of what appeared to be hardened mud. These insectoid creatures had a nasty bite, but were not venomous. Keeping these bugs in check were the mostly-docile anteaters. At least, that's what most people called them; they served the same function; with big claws to open the hives and a long snout and tongue to snag them. On all fours, these creatures stood almost eight feet high. Still, the most problems people had with them were that they weren't particularly careful--akin to elephants in china closets. Heavy and sure-footed, the furry beasts didn't often look where they were going. When approaching, it was best to come at them from the side and stay in their vision to prevent startling the creatures.

The seas were a murky mass of sand and mud. The denizens that slithered about in their depths were carnivorous to the point of cannibalism. Mostly, they were aquatic animals that resembled piranhas and eels with bad tempers. There were other things resembling plankton that fed off the minerals floating on the water's surface; the sandstorms brought those mineral particles with the sands.

The caves, however, were the biggest concern for businesses; that was where the money was. The life in there was generally more crawling than biting. It was an arachnophobic nightmare. The animals were ten-legged--and what _long_ legs those were--with orb-shaped bodies the size of cantaloupes; the body and legs were covered in fuzzy hairs. They were almost a mix of Terran tarantulas and daddy-long-legs. The people of Nemaeus 4 referred to them as spiders, though they were properly 'arachnoids.' Their webs were everywhere; even when the miners cleared an area, they found more webs spun the next day. The arachnoids didn't seem to care whether they had webs or not--the webbing seemed almost vestigial, used for shortcuts from ceiling to floor or wall to wall. The spider-like creatures had no fangs, but chelicerae that were more appropriate for sweeping up fungus from the walls. Like the pythoplecs of Helion, some people kept the arachnoids as pets. The many-legged things were harmless enough to hand-feed.

Also within the caves were small, bat-like creatures that flitted about, chasing juicy bugs close in form to gnats and dragonflies for a meal. These chiropterans, like their Terran counterparts, used echolocation to hunt. Due to their size, it sounded much like a cicada call. Their buzzing sounds echoed about the caves almost constantly. The chiropterans were a minor annoyance because they liked to _perch_--on the walls, ceilings, mining exoskeletons, on the mining tools... and sometimes on guards that fell asleep on their shifts, if they were still enough. There was a company working on a repellent that didn't harm the chiropterans.

The minerals in the caves brought people to Nemaeus 4. For a small sample, they could replicate and refine the minerals for various uses--including the highly durable material used to contain the massive energy output of ion drives. The stalactites and stalagmites in the various caves grew the minerals in small, crystallized coatings or as fungi. Whatever the mineral or substance, they could all be processed for an impressive revenue. Unfortunately, the only ones to turn the huge profit on this lucrative, dangerous planet were the tycoons that owned the businesses. Life was very... _corporate_ on Nemaeus 4.

* * *

There was a nigh constant breeze around the stony plains. The air was typically warm during the day, even if dry. At night, however, it was bitter, ranging from moderately chilly to freezing. This had been Jack's home for a large chunk of her childhood. It wasn't extremely pleasant to look at, but people had learned to find other means of making their lives bearable. They had to, or its harsh, uncaring nature would have crushed them. It was either that or be devoured by the apathetic companies with a monopoly on industry and a stranglehold on the government.

'_Definitely not attracting any tourists,_' Riddick thought to himself as he turned back from the cargo bay ramp.

There was some cargo to pick up from the suppliers. The orders he'd placed would be shipping in a month. After some downtime, they would pick up the cargo and ship out within a month. Vec-Corp's main branch was here; he was scheduled to pick up their cargo in a week. In the following weeks, Riddick would pick up some crates of Nano-Med tubes and canisters for delivery to the Taurus system. Their last week on Nemaeus 4, the escaped convict would pick up four crates of multipurpose environmental suits from Navigear, Inc., and then they would ship out.

This short break would also give him some time to search for a doc to put Jack's head together. He wasn't sure where he would find someone or what arrangements would have to be made, but he was sure between Rachel and himself, he could get Jack what she needed. However, Riddick had no idea how long it would take. Problems such as hers would take time and dedication to work through; he needed a dependable shrink...

The escaped convict made his way to the lounge. It was time to get out; too much time on the ship wasn't good. They needed some _real_ gravity under them instead of the artificial pull of the ship or the station. Maybe they'd go out to eat or something... It might just help pick up Jack's mood a bit. Her moping mood was about to drive him up the wall; it wasn't like Jack at all. It was never good to linger on events as she was--then again, neither was stuffing it away and ignoring it. He sighed. This was getting more and more complicated.

The girl needed her wits about her for the business deals ahead. So dinner it was. He'd best tell the girls--well, more importantly Mouse. She was probably glued to the com again. There were times he wondered if so much involvement with electronics was healthy...

* * *

Rachel had her head lying on the arm of the couch in the lounge, the rest of her body reclined along its length. She wore a blue, long-sleeve shirt and grey pants; not too dressy, but not grungy or worn like what she used for training. Her com-pad resided on her stomach, propped by both hands with another story on its display.

This one was swiftly becoming her favorite. It featured a woman who had entered a super soldier project for the military. The past three books had built up to this moment. Behind so-called enemy lines, where hidden truths were exposed and the sides of light and dark blurred into murky distortions of grey, the heroine found her love in an unlikely doctor of the opposing army.

Finally, after being severely wounded and gradually recovering in the secret laboratory of the doctor, she came to realize her true feelings for Doctor Fitzroy--an intense redhead with a mind that bordered on super genius. Fitz was just helping Carrie bathe, as the super soldier was not yet strong enough to support herself. Of course, this led to some extra-tender ministrations...

"..._paired in a torrid haze that was equal parts passion and lust-_"

At the sound of the deep voice reciting the line of text she had read not three paragraphs ago, Rachel lurched to a sitting position with a startled squeak. The redhead clutched the com against her stomach to hide the paragraphs of explicit erotica. Her heart thudded harshly in her throat and she was too embarrassed to turn around and see the expression she knew would be on the bald man's face.

"People actually think that way? ...Not very realistic."

Rachel hid her beet-red face against her knees, wishing a rip in the space-time continuum to open and suck her into nonexistence. What was more humiliating was how he just blithely continued!

"There are better sources if you really wanna know-"

"_No, thank you,_" she quickly managed in a shrill whine.

Several soft, breathy barks of sound came from behind her and she realized that he was chuckling... at her expense. He turned away head headed for the hallway.

"We're going out for dinner in a few hours. Before that though, we should familiarize ourselves with the area. We'll leave in half an hour. Let Jack know; I have to send some notifications to the suppliers."

Then she heard his boots carry him to the cockpit. His quiet laugher accompanied the small sounds of his departure. Every amused note in the noise hit her ego in acidic waves of jeering humor. She groaned against her knees and shook her head. The redhead could tell today was going to be a taxing day--on her nerves, if nothing else.

* * *

After a few minutes to get her ears to stop burning, Rachel took the time to clean her glasses of the smudges on them. She got up and went into the hallway. Stopping by Jack's door, she knocked lightly.

"_What_," the perturbed response was practically yelled through the door.

The short redhead blinked, "Uhm, we're going out in half and hour... are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just want to stay on the ship."

Exasperatedly, Rachel folded her arms, "Can you at least open the door and talk to my _face_, Jack?"

There was a moment of silence... and then the door was slung halfway across its tracks. She could see the brunette's retreating form disappear into the darkness. A dull thump followed by a shift of sheets told her that the street rat had flung herself onto her bed.

Pushing the door open fully, Rachel moved inside and closed the door behind her, "Lights, one-third."

When the lights slowly bled into existence about the room, she found Jack huddled in her covers and squinting unappreciatively at the lights. The taller girl looked absolutely miserable! Rachel moved to the edge of the bed and sat on it.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I fucking _hate_ being a goddamn _girl_," Jack growled, still huddled in a nest of covers.

Understanding dawned upon the mousy girl immediately. Her mouth opened in a small 'o' and she tilted her head to the side.

"Do you have anything? You want me to pick you up some _Cinch_?"

Jack stared at Rachel blankly, "Some what?"

"_Cinch_. Haven't you ever used it? It's usually right next to tampons."

Jack slowly shook her head. The girl obviously had no idea what she was talking about. _Cinch_ was a pill that had been around since before Rachel was born. Honestly, it was a godsend to women. It relaxed muscles and loosened the lining of the uterus. The irreverent called it a period laxative. While it could not change the mood swings that came with hormonal imbalances, it did take care of the cramps and dealt with a week's worth of bleeding--usually in under an hour. Rachel was curious why Jack had never come across it.

"What do you do when your period hits?"

A shrug, "It's irregular... so I just go to a store, grab the first box of heavy pads I see, and get out as quickly as possible. Keep to myself and just... deal."

When Rachel didn't immediately answer, she glared at the other girl, "_What_?"

"Are you serious?"

Another glare.

Rachel took pity on her, "I'll pick you up some female supplies and a box of _Cinch_, okay? Pads or tampons?"

Jack shifted slightly; she was uncomfortable talking about this topic. However, it was one question the brunette could answer easily, "Pads."

"I'll be right back."

Rachel hopped up and left the room. A grumpy Jack would be easier to deal with than a grumpy, miserable Jack. Stopping by the couch, the redhead picked up her pack and com-pad. As she opened the hatch to the cargo bay, Riddick stopped her.

"You talked to Jack?"

Rachel nodded, "She's in her room."

The escaped convict slowly raised a brow, "And... is she plannin' on comin' out?"

The mousy girl shook her head, "No, Jack needs some things. I'm going out to grab them."

Feeling that she'd made her point, Rachel turned back to the hatch.

"What kind of things?"

Pausing from where she'd shouldered one strap of her backpack, the redhead looked over her shoulder, "..._Girl_ things."

There was a moment of silence as he simply stared at her from behind those damnable, welding goggles.

"...Be back before sixteenth hour."

Rachel glanced at the wall-mounted com-screen in the lounge. It was 15:00. With a nod, she finished shouldering the pack and descended the ladder. Moments later, Riddick heard the cargo bay ramp open and close.

* * *

Rachel stepped out from their hangar into a bronzed, sunny world with gunmetal grey structures in the docking bay. The brightness of the docking bay in the sunlight reminded her of departure from Helion Prime. This was where the similarities stopped. Beyond the docking bay area, she found not sandstone buildings, but a field of prefabricated buildings, factories, houses, and apartment complexes in various whites, light blues, and greys. It was a sea of construction.

She squinted in the light, but soon the lenses darkened on her glasses. Her mother always ordered her lens prescription with transition and anti-glare. The redhead was thankful for this, because the reflection of light off the roofs and tarmacs was almost blinding. Everything was so bright here... Away from the docking bay, it would probably not be so glaring. Rachel pushed her glasses higher on her nose and moved down the ramp.

Pretending to scratch her back, she idly ran her fingers over the dagger she now carried with her everywhere. The redhead didn't think it would be good to linger; best to get what she needed and return to the safety of the ship. Later, with 'Murdoch Connal,' 'Morrigan' could feel safe. The protection of her 'uncle' was tantamount to an armed guard--she wasn't so sure that _wasn't_ the case...

Regardless, Rachel only had an hour, but it only took her seconds to check one of the kiosks set up at the entrance to her docking bay. The kiosk showed that they had a much more rudimentary set-up than Helion Prime. This place, North City, was not creatively named... it was simply nearer the North Ocean, which was not exactly an original title, either. It was cut into quadrants; the corporate, industrial, housing, and market districts surrounded the hub of this town and slowly expanded in an ever-growing circle as more and more buildings and businesses cropped up.

Rachel located the nearest convenience store on the kiosk and hopped on a hover-transport nearby. The shuttle was smelly and crowded, but she would be getting off on the next stop. Fifteen minutes later, she was standing on a street filled with bustling people trying to get here or there. Rachel browsed the windows, looking for a store that might have what she was looking for. Many of the shops were more for appliances and furniture, but those slowly graduated to general markets. She entered one of these convenience stores.

Seven minutes later, she had some vitamin supplements, _Cinch_, and pads. The redhead checked out and used one of her UD cards Riddick had provided them. The cards were only for necessity, not to buy luxury items--and his definition of luxury was broad, often reaching into the 'are you going to die without it?' range.

As she waited at a stop for the next shuttle back to the docking bays, Rachel looked around. The people didn't stand on the street talking as they did on Helion Prime's markets. It appeared that others were just obstacles for a person trying to get from Point A to Point B. Interactions were about as impersonal as the buildings.

The shuttle arrived and she boarded, trying not to think about what she smelled or how it had gotten there. Another fifteen minutes were spent watching streets and buildings pass by in cloned row after cloned row. It was almost hypnotic in repetition. Rachel supposed that, after so many years, she would have stopped paying attention, too.

* * *

Rachel returned with twelve minutes to spare. After grabbing a glass of water, the mousy girl headed for Jack's room. She spent the remaining time before Riddick planned to leave explaining how to use _Cinch_ to Jack. Due to its nature, it was best taken with the vitamins; otherwise, a girl could feel very wiped out after taking it. It was also rather fast acting, and she warned Jack to be on or near the toilet within ten to fifteen minutes of taking it. The brunette didn't snap at her throughout the instructions, which were also on the box, but there was nothing to be done for the girl's general grouchiness. Then again, she didn't know any girl that was a ray of sunshine while on her period.

"We're going out to eat. Would you like us to bring you something back? I'm sure there's plenty of variety around here."

Jack just shrugged miserably.

'_Like pulling teeth from a crocodile..._' Rachel thought sardonically. She pushed back some hair that had fallen into Jack's face and gave her a small smile, "Just rest up. If you don't feel like eating whatever we bring back, we'll just put it in the cryo-storage locker 'til you feel like eating."

With that, the redhead lowered the lighting to fifteen percent and closed the door.

* * *

Murdoch and Morrigan went to a steakhouse, which imported its meat from Nemaeus 6, a planet with an abundance of carnivorous, elephant-like animals. Their population was steadily increasing and their main prey--a wolf-sized, badger-like creature--was starting to suffer from over-predation. Within a decade, the size of their herds would exceed the number of badger-things. Hunting seasons had been set up and kept the population of predator pachyderms in check. ...They also made for some extremely tender, succulent meat.

Therefore, while he added some sauce to his generous cut of 'steak,' he decided to bring up a topic that had been on his mind for a bit. Admittedly, Murdoch knew enough of shrinks to toy with their minds and give them false impressions. However, now that he actually _wanted_ to find a shrink, he'd no idea how to go about finding a _good_ one. However, when it came to matters of the mind, he decided he should tap the brain resource he had: the resident genius.

"Hey, Mouse..."

"Hm?"

Murdoch began calmly and quietly, because he didn't want other tables to hear. At the same time, he was moderate in his tone because he didn't want to sound suspicious, "Aislin needs help. Professional help that we don't have. We're gonna be here a few weeks; think you could find me a respectable shrink on this rock?"

"I suppose I could," Morrigan answered while mirroring his calm, soft voice, "Do you think a few weeks will be long enough? I mean, we're talking about some kind of... post-traumatic stress disorder. Some people never get over it. I've heard about some veterans from the Wailing Wars that still get flashbacks to their service."

Murdoch sat back slowly, his silver eyes blinking in the low light of the restaurant. It was odd how that kept coming up. Johns and Randal were dead and somehow it was still thrown in his face. Well, never mind that. It was a minor annoyance now that his issues had been settled the way he usually dealt with things--permanently and in a very violent fashion.

"Maybe so, but we have to start somewhere. Better something than nothing at all."

Morrigan nodded, "I'll start on it when I get back. It's usually not considered better than a face-to-face meeting, but there's also the option of com-conference therapy. I've heard it's been used on-"

Murdoch raised a brow when she abruptly cut off. He canted his head to the side. Due to his shined eyes, he could not see her blush, but it was rather obvious in the way her eyes grew wide and cut to the side...

'_Oh, no you don't,_' he thought, '_This has gotta be good._'

"On...?" Murdoch urged.

"...violent criminals," she muttered without looking at him.

He blinked at her again. Then he burst out laughing. It was a rough, deep sound that startled a few tables of people around him who were not expecting it. The bald, escaped convict quickly subsided into a few dark chuckles that only seemed to embarrass Morrigan more. Slowly, he reined in his mirth. A damnable smirk remained.

"That reminds me of a character in an old book I remember reading..."

Despite herself, it gained her curiosity, "What was it?"

"I don't remember the title, it's been a while. But I remember the main character was this serial killer... he used to eat his victims. So, this cannibal guy once had a shrink try to do a survey on him--pick him apart using this little paper form. The cannibal manages to kill the doc and eats his liver."

"That's sick!" she hissed in a grimace.

"The ironic part? This killer... he used to be a shrink, too."

Morrigan just stared at him for several moments before shaking her head.

* * *

The mousy genius had a small, thermal, take-out container with a steak with onions and mushrooms, fries, and a small bowl of chili. It rested in a bag that she carried along with her on the ride back to the ship. This shuttle was more or less the same as the one the redhead had used to grab Aislin some _Cinch_--and just as crowded. Oddly enough, however, she did not feel pressed in, nor did anyone jostle her. It probably had something to do with the imposing figure of Murdoch standing next to her. People respected the silent aura of threat he gave off and formed a bubble around the two. It was more than a little amusing.

As the hover-transport came to a stop, the genius girl saw a candy store. It was mostly vacant. Nobody had a sweet tooth right now--did they ever, on this dirt-ball? She shook that thought away; Aislin had grown up here and it couldn't have been all bad. It just seemed so strangely out of place. The store had cheerful colors inside and a likewise colorful sign, at a contrast to the seemingly uniform grey that pervaded the other storefronts.

The shuttle wouldn't be moving for ten minutes.

"I'll be right back, I want to get something for Aislin," she said to her 'father.'

"Be quick," was all Murdoch said. His tone implied he wasn't too happy making detours and side-trips.

It didn't take but a few minutes before she returned with a small, red box. There was a picture of some chocolate covered cherries on it and some gold, calligraphy-style writing declaring its brand-name... '_Malik_.' The connoisseur of sweets behind the register told her that they were the second best chocolate covered cherries she could find. They weren't superbly expensive, either. Their very best brand, however, cost more for five cherries than this whole box of 24! Morrigan would take the _Malik_ cherries, thank you very much. She was getting Aislin a delicious treat, not a costly one.

The redhead hopped back on the shuttle with time to spare. Once again, as a few other people boarded after her, she found a small bubble of space around Murdoch. She wondered how he managed to stay hidden from authorities when he stuck out so sorely at times like this...

* * *

As she reached the _Spirit of Langavat_, Rachel had an odd thought. Why were they coming this way? Granted, they always had, but it didn't really make much sense. When the girl thought of the layout, it was rather backwards to do so. This became apparent to her when she carried bags of groceries up a ladder.

The cargo bay took up the aft half of the lower deck. It had no frills, just a solid floor, ceiling and walls; some latches and netting to hold down cargo. It was the biggest part of the ship. It had to be of a respectable size for the business; it could hold 60 large crates at maximum capacity. At the moment, they were only carrying five or so crates of personal storage--two of which were for the food-prep machine. The other crates' contents... she couldn't guess. The rest of the space could be used for the business. Riddick probably wouldn't ever fill the bay to the brim with crates; hauling that much cargo probably wasn't wise. Still, it was always better to be ready--just in case.

As she came up the ramp, Rachel could see the opposite end of the cargo bay. Against the wall was a ladder that led to a hatch to the upper deck. Beside the ladder, outlined in yellow, stood a door to the middle section of the ship. That section of the lower deck started with two, fully-equipped, single-bed medical bays. It was better to have two separate rooms than all the chaos in a single room.

Beyond those, to the left and right respectively, were the engineering room and the laundry room. Riddick sometimes spent time in the engineering room, just checking things to make sure they were in good working condition. He was a little obsessive about the ship in that way. The laundry room had more expensive washer and dryer units than she and her mother had on Helion.

The last two rooms in the middle section of the ship were the workout room and workshop. Riddick spent time in the workshop as well; it had every tool she recognized and some she didn't. Whenever something wasn't performing up to par, Riddick would usually grab something from that room and go to fix it. If it was easily moveable, the entire unit of whatever usually disappeared into that room and came back fixed--or at least returned to passable functionality until a replacement could be found.

The workout room was what had once been a large jacuzzi area. Riddick had gutted it completely and reworked it himself. The floor was now padded and contained a series of large lockers where gear was contained. Junner Front's assault rifle--the firearm she so recently favored--held residence among a collection of other firearms. There were various punching bags, including a heavy bag, a double-end bag, and another hook where one of the anatomical dummies could be suspended. The projectors on the ceiling were used for the firearms training program.

Behind the laundry room, accessible through the workout room, was the sauna. She had wondered about the sauna, at first. Then she had the dubious pleasure of workouts with Riddick. It was a godsend, the heat easing her tense muscles and helping to slowly uncoil the large amounts of stress--physical and mental.

The lower deck's front section was composed of a short hallway, a supply closet, a stairway leading up to the lounge, and the door to the cryo room. The latter had twelve cryo-units, fully prepped but seldom used. The room was filled with the rectangular boxes with slightly bulging front windows. The far left side of the room had a monitoring station on the room as a whole, but each locker had its own monitor unit as well. Jack hated cryo--said it was disturbing to have a chunk of missing time spent in a thick, dreamless unawareness--and Riddick... well, she didn't know Riddick's views on the topic. The redhead didn't have an opinion on cryo-sleep; she'd never been off Helion Prime and had never been in a cryo locker.

She used the stairs in the hallway before the cryo room to go from the lounge to the workout room. So did Jack and Riddick, but that still wasn't the point. This used to be a _luxury_ ship by initial design. It was bound to have an external-access side ramp or stairs for convenience. Hell, most ships did, anyhow. ...So why were they coming and going through the cargo bay all the time? In the time she had been on the ship, she'd never looked for the side exit, but she never explored the ship. After all, the last thing she wanted was Riddick getting angry with her for snooping about.

As the ramp raised and finally closed, she paused and looked about the mostly-empty cargo bay.

"You forget something, Mouse?"

"No," she answered him, and finally moved on and up the ladder. Thankfully, it wasn't difficult with just one bag. "I was just wondering why we don't use the side exit. This was a high-class ship, so it must have one."

"I always use the cargo ramp," Riddick said with a slight shrug.

"Why? I mean... What if you had a lot to carry? Isn't it hard to carry stuff up a ladder?"

"Never had anything that big to take up. Most large things I got were crates, and those stayed in the cargo bay."

The redhead blinked once while she absorbed that tidbit of knowledge. Rachel absently closed the hatch to the cargo bay. She stood in the middle of the hallway on the top level; the floor here was carpeted in a slightly spongy, soft, navy blue fabric. There were six quarters about her; the two quarters closest to the lounge were Riddick's and Jack's. Jack's room was on the right--starboard, if she wanted to use proper ship terminology--and her room was the middle room behind the brunette. The two back quarters and the middle room opposite Rachel's were unused. Every room had its own bathroom with shower and toilet. The rooms were deeper than they were wide; each one complete with bed, closet, nightstand, dresser, and a small table and two sitting chairs. Still, there was probably room to mount a personal com display on the wall or fit some other piece of furniture. The redhead liked to have a little blank space; it made her feel less closed-in.

She followed Riddick to the lounge and paused in the doorway, taking the time to scout around for that side exit... The lounge was very comfortable in size and arrangement; it took up a little more than half that section of the ship. The door at the far end led to the cockpit. The right side of the room made up the dividing wall between the lounge and the kitchen, with the doorway at the side closest to the hallway's entrance. The side exit she had been wondering about was subtly placed in the middle of the left wall. With most of her time spent on the couch and her back to it, she'd never taken notice of it. In the forward-left corner, there was the stairway that most everyone used to go to the lower deck, usually to head to the workout room.

The carpet from the hallway continued into the lounge, and accented the furniture well. Most of the furniture was done in black upholstery. The couch sat with its back facing the left wall, centered roughly in the middle of the room. Beside the couch, on the side closer to the hallway, was Riddick's recliner chair. ...Neither Jack nor Rachel had the audacity to try to keep him from it. She wasn't sure what he'd do if she did, but figured it wiser not to find out. On the opposite side, closer to the door to the cockpit, sat a loveseat and a papasan chair with a thick, royal blue cushion. The latter was good for curling up in, but most of the time, she was using the com console/com-pad docking station set into a sliding tray-drawer in the grey coffee table in front of the couch.

The full kitchen was hidden from view by the same wall that housed the mounted com-screen. The kitchen had everything one might find necessary in a house on any other planet. It was somewhat eerie; like walking through a portal--one moment you're in the middle of space in a comfy lounge only to find that you'd wound up planet-side in someone's kitchen! There was everything one might expect: an oven and stove range, lots of counter space and cabinets, sink, dishwasher, cryo-storage locker and heater, and a very nice food-prep machine. Riddick hadn't really touched the kitchen in his renovations; it had everything necessary to prepare just about any meal he could think of from scratch. Most of the time, though, they didn't make anything more difficult than pancakes or, once, tuna casserole. ...Until recently, Jack had been banned from using anything but the food-prep machine.

As for the cockpit, Rachel had no comment... except that it was big. She hadn't really had any reason to go up to the front section, but the times she'd peaked into the cockpit showed her that there were two seats and an array of controls. Said controls surrounded the steering apparatus, all the buttons strategically settled around each seat in two arcs of wide, glowing panels. The panels made almost a half-circle around the pilot and co-pilot seats. Sometimes she saw Jack up there just talking with Riddick. Other times, the redhead saw him giving the other girl piloting lessons. The escaped convict was still figuring out a new cockpit design to accommodate the weapons they had installed. As it stood, one of the consoles had to be switched to tactical mode.

She should really look into finding something for that while they were on Nemaeus 4. Rachel contemplated this as she entered the lounge and turned into the kitchen. She put Jack's meal in the cryo-storage locker for later. Reaching into her pack, she pulled out the chocolate covered cherries. When the redhead came back to the lounge, Riddick was walking toward the quarters.

"Um..." she noised, giving him pause. He looked at her over his shoulder and she hastened to get her question out, "Where are you going? Didn't you have to check with the supplier to set the pick-up dates?"

"Talk to Jack. I'll contact 'em next."

"She wasn't in a very good mood..."

The convict lifted a single shoulder, "Just checking on her; she has training tomorrow."

Rachel frowned. He should know better than to expect anything more than a wiped-out Jack tomorrow morning. _Cinch_ aside, it did nothing for the hormonal havoc. The genius girl wondered just what he would expect of her. It didn't look like Jack would be willing to get out of bed by tomorrow, much less training.

It was an odd thing; Jack had never missed a day of school over her period. In fact, the brunette's attendance record had to have been one of the best in her class. She wasn't sure how that jived with what looked like a really harsh period.

"...You're being a little harsh on her... Here, take this," she said, walking over and handing him the _Malik_ cherries, "Might improve her mood."

He took the box, but didn't say anything about them. Instead, he began what she was quickly learning was his lecture tone, "So it's harsh. Life's a bitch, Mouse. Anyone set on killing you isn't gonna wait for your every ache and pain to go away. Slower you are, easier their job is."

Rachel canted her head to the side. Granted, she'd never really considered that, but it was true. Any mercenary who would hold a gym full of helpless girls hostage just to get their 'bait' for Riddick certainly wouldn't think twice about going after a girl when she was at her worst. The redhead nodded just a bit to show she understood.

Satisfied that the point was conveyed, the bald man turned and left the lounge.

'_Life's a bitch, Riddick... but so am I. Enjoy your present, Jack,_' Rachel thought with a smirk. She adjusted her glasses and turned back to the wall-mounted com-screen.

* * *

Riddick glanced at the chocolates in his hand. He half-wondered why he was bothering. It wasn't like he needed a peace-offering to talk to her--he hadn't done anything wrong. Even if he had, gifts were not the way he normally went about with his apologies. The escaped convict could count the number of times he had verbally apologized to Jack on one hand.

...Twice. He had sincerely apologized to Jack's face twice.

The first time he had made her cry had been when they were on Chillingsworth's jumper and they had an argument about the gun. She was deathly afraid of not being able to protect herself. It was just the three of them, but that didn't matter; it was wholly psychological. That day, he apologized and showed her how to make shivs.

The second time had been when he left five years ago. She didn't do it in his sight, but he knew she had cried then, too. He had apologized--not for having to leave, but for hurting her feelings. Riddick knew it was inevitable that the time would come, but he had overlooked its impact on Jack. That was his fault.

'_I'm not apologizing_,' he silently affirmed.

He would just give her the chocolates. Rachel had just tossed them on him, so he'd just hand them off to Jack. Riddick would just think of it as a delivery. He came to the girl's door and knocked on it. There was a muffled response from inside, more or less a grumbled acknowledgement. That was good enough for him and he quietly slid the door along its tracks.

Jack had turned out all the lights, so when he closed the door, he raised his goggles. There she lay, huddled in her covers in a pile of unpleasant female. The girl didn't even bother lifting her head to greet him; her eyes tracked him, though. That was fine. He didn't expect her to be in the land of flowers and sunshine.

'_Looks better than she normally does 'round this time,_' he noted. Normally she was largely unaware of her surroundings until either Imam or he spoke to her. Jack's periods hit her hard.

His voice was deep as always, but not so harsh at the moment, "Hey, Jack... Remember, training tomorrow."

Her response was a mutter that slightly slurred, "' know. 'll be there."

"Good..."

The silence stretched out as Riddick stood there awkwardly, remembering the small parcel he had in his hand. Those shined eyes regarded her calmly, and she stared back into those small, silver glints in the dark. His animal shifted slightly within him for reasons he could not identify.

Jack said nothing. He reciprocated. Finally, his continued presence seemed to register something in Jack's mind. She levered herself to a sitting position to regard him quietly for another few seconds. Her hair was in dissaray and the tank and boxers she wore to bed rumpled. Riddick watched the girl watch him.

In the end, it was she that broke the silence.

"Y'need somethin' else?" she asked with a tired, scratchy voice.

'_No,_' he answered mentally, and decided to move on, "...Here."

The box went sailing through the air. Jack caught it with both hands.

* * *

In the dark, she couldn't make out what the box was. It was a simple, thin cardboard box. She flipped it open and her nose immediately identified the scent of chocolate.

'_Riddick got me chocolates...?_'

"Um, thanks," she replied softly, her voice still a bit rough.

The street rat looked up at him to see him walking away. Jack had never known Riddick to say 'you're welcome' to anyone and mean it. He was the type of man that let his actions speak for him. After a quick glance down at the box that lay in her lap, Jack turned her eyes back to the empty doorway.

Didn't that _mean_ something? She was pretty sure that meant _something_. The girls at school were always going on about what their boyfriends brought them on dates. Sometimes she heard them gushing about some flowers or, less often, jewelry. They were very excited about things like gifts. Riddick had just tossed her some chocolates... What did that mean? Should she be excited? Right now, she was more confused than excited. Jack knew that the boys did it to show they really liked the girl. Did--did Riddick...?

Slowly, the brunette's face began to warm up and she was almost surprised her blush didn't brighten the room. It certainly _felt_ like her face was glowing! If it... _meant something_, then she should be thrilled! However, if it didn't, she didn't want to rush in like a fool. So what should she do?

'_Okay... okay, think about this. Should I... should I do something? What should I do? ...Damnit, I don't know! I can't do anything yet, even if I wanted to... I don't have what I need. Damnit! I didn't have time to pack anything because of those _fucking_ mercs! ...I'll just have to be patient. I can do that._'

* * *

When Riddick came back to the lounge, the redhead had already pulled up the coms of each of their suppliers. All Riddick had to do was ask Rhadamanthus to connect him. She left him to it--Rhad could tell the man anything else he needed to know. For all its sense of mischief, Rhadamanthus was just as professional as Minos.

It was hard not to anthropomorphize the artificial intelligences; they seemed so real at times. They might not be real, but they were very experienced--Rachel had trained them for the past two years. They were an exceptional piece of work... When she first came across the Sentinel program while meandering through the Sentry Sector, she had been immediately enthralled. Whoever had coded them was definitely in a league of their own.

The program was inactive; it was a simple matter of switching a single value from 'false' to 'true.' The genius girl took the program and pored over the code as if possessed. A few tweaks, a few additions, and a quick copy created two heads of Cerberus.

Now they were more than capable of acting on their own. Best of all, they were the ideal partners. They never argued, they always shared her ideals, and they always worked toward the same goal. At a time in her life when she was lacking in friends, these intelligences filled a niche. Real or not, they were important to her.

Much in the same way she had stumbled upon Sentinel, she had stumbled across Audrey Knight. Audrey was quiet and didn't need help from others, but she wasn't averse to having companions. Most people thought she was standoffish, but they never approached her to find out. Rachel and Cassandra had, and neither regretted it. Now Jack and Riddick were just as important to her as Minos and Rhadamanthus.

While Riddick was busy with the Connal family business, Rachel went to check on Jack. Her door was still open, the lights out. The overheads in the hall were at half-strength, and the subdued light made a small rectangle of illumination into Jack's quarters. It didn't reach far enough to reveal the bed.

"Jack?"

"Hm," the other girl quietly replied.

Rachel stepped in, coming around to sit at the side of the bed when she bumped into it. She waited for her eyes to adjust while seeking out Jack's form. There was nothing wrong with her ears, though.

"How're you doing?"

This question seemed to bring Jack out of her stupor, kicking her back into the real world and out of her plotting. She managed not to lag in her answer and create an awkward silence.

"Okay, I'll be better for training tomorrow."

"...He's still making you go through training?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Well... _yeah_. We've never gone without training. Don't worry, though. I've just been taking it easy today. If I really needed to, I could be up and about... just not in the mood. It helps that the stuff you got me took most of the cramps 'n' shit away. Don't feel like I'm gonna puke, anymore... just really tired."

Rachel, eyes finally adjusted to the dark, nodded to the brunette, "If you eat, it'll replace the energy the _Cinch_ burned off. Then you'll probably feel a bit less lethargic. ...You said you didn't have any _Cinch_ before now. How'd you get along without it?"

Jack gave a one-shouldered shrug, "Pain's a part of life. You can't let it get you down. Sometimes I'd have to take a break in the middle of training to throw up or something, but... You shake it off. ...Nobody's gonna wait for your aches and pains to go away. The slower you are, the-"

"-easier their job is," the redhead finished, "He told me that, too. I'm guessing it's one of those Riddick Philosophies."

The street rat's head canted slightly to the left, "_Riddick Philosophies_?"

It was the genius' turn to shrug, "You're always quoting him, and he used the same phrase with me a few minutes ago. All these little sayings... they're like philosophies for a way of life."

Jack didn't say anything, just stared blankly at the other girl. The redhead smiled, seeing she had effectively confused Jack. Rachel gave a slight shake of her head.

"We got you a steak and some chili from the restaurant. It's in the cryo-storage locker, when you're ready to eat."

When Jack nodded, Rachel gave another small smile and stood up. She left the room and returned to the lounge. She wanted to submit their work and get their assignments from school for this coming week. Midterms had occurred just before the dance and things would be relatively quiet until finals--just the usual assignments and quizzes remained. For the last half of the year, the seniors at the Academy were urged to seek out jobs.

In some cases, excelling students took on internships for the last half of their senior year. However, competency tests were required for their classes before that option was available. She knew a few people in her classes who had made such plans. As it was, Rachel saw herself ahead of the curve on that!

'_This is one Hell of an internship..._'

* * *

SATURDAY

Eight hours' passage saw the street rat in the workout room. Jack spent the first half hour of her training warming up with a few stretches and weights. After several sets of crunches, squats, push-ups, and pull-ups using weights to increase the overall workout, the brunette decided it was time to move on to the real training. She had worked up a good sweat, but the last hour of her training would be dedicated to her solo routine. During tonight's spar, she would have something new to show Riddick...

Music pulsed within the room. It was a good thing the walls on this ship were thick. However, her high-energy music wasn't going to cut it. Jack needed to _zone_. She decided that her workout dedicated to new techniques should start with her new playlist.

"Stop music. Load 'Jack's Fight Songs 2.' Play."

Rhadamanthus' roguish voice acquiesced, "Your wish is my command. Playlist loaded."

The first blast of the electric guitar had her eyes snapping open and stalking toward the heavy punching bag. Hard rock spilled into the room, immediately setting a fast pace that thrummed through her body and energized her. She opened with a vicious left cross, quickly followed by a rapid series of alternating gut punches, at the end of which she finished with a looping, right hook. As the bag swayed to the left, the street rat threw a left elbow, turning with the strike and laying a spinning backfist from the opposite hand. This led her to a flurry of jabs that finished with a combination right knee and elbow.

Jack lurched to follow the bag and landed a final left hook, careful now not to overextend. These days Riddick was seriously punishing any overextension. Most of the time, she had a handle on it, but the green-eyed girl tended to forget during her 'chasing' to finish an opponent.

The bag came swinging back toward her and she spun around it, ripping her left leg through the air to heel kick it on its way to another swing. Now it was time to test out one of her new fake-out kicks. Those were always handy; manipulating your opponent to do what you want them to do is half the battle, Riddick had said. _In theory_, it should catch someone completely off guard. In practice, it might just give Riddick the chance to slam her face with something...

Jack whipped out her right leg in a parody of any kick to the head, ribs, thighs, or shins. She kept her knee bent and prepared for the snap, however. Now in profile and beyond the kick, she was able to shove her leg out in a vicious side kick--which she could aim at any height. Good for head, chest, or leg kicks. Her leg snapped out with a resounding _smack_ against the middle of the bag. It folded slightly around her boot and jangled harshly on its chains. She followed up with a left spinning backfist, a straight right, and moved on to more gut punches. The girl's slightly hunched position suddenly straightened and her right knee blasted the lower part of the heavy bag.

Punches... check. Fake-out kick... check. Now for her regular kicks--and maybe to see if she could find anything to transition to or from that fake-out technique. Jack slammed several right side kicks before throwing out a head kick. Next, she repeated the process with her left leg. Afterward, the brunette unleashed some kick and knee combos onto the bag.

Panting, she backed away seconds before another song ended. Sweat dripped off her face and she moved to the bench and sat down for a moment. The pounding bass and powerful riffs of this new music were perfect for beating inanimate objects into submission. She took the time to rehydrate herself and catch a second wind. Then she'd try some of her new technical attacks. Unfortunately, she couldn't do them all, because some of them required another body to be in certain positions at different times. The dummy couldn't do that. She wasn't about to ask Riddick to come down right now, either. That would ruin the surprises Jack had for their spars tonight... and their spars were special to her.

Satisfied with her break and that the sweat was no longer pouring from her, she stood up and stretched. There was a tiny pop in her back and she went over what she wanted in her mind several times as she approached the heavy bag. If done wrong, she'd dump herself on her ass with no balance. ...That would suck, so best to avoid it. The street rat snorted to herself.

'_Kick, hit, leap... kick, hit, leap..._'

Jack raised her fists and began a turn, swiftly swinging out her leg in a kick. It was a good side kick, no doubt ready to assault someone's ribs. Following that was a backfist that she seemed to like so much--aimed low to catch a ducking adversary's jaw. This drew her ever closer to the bag. Generally, her combos ended at a backfist and she didn't want to become too predictable. She had an idea of her rotation, now... The brunette backed up to try it again. She had to keep her target spotted, else she could wind up very dizzy or worse--she might lose the position of her opponent. Riddick would definitely capitalize on something like that.

A screaming, left side kick; a fiendish, right backfist... and then she touched her left foot down. In the same motion, Jack lifted her right leg and pushed off with her left. A half rotation in the air whirled her body like a tilting top until that same left leg swung out. The impact it made on the bag was impressive, as was the sound--which she could easily hear over the pounding music. The follow through and the landing was a little awkward since the bag didn't really give like a body would.

Jack grinned. It had worked. Riddick had found a bunch of sanctioned fighting vids on the net and told her to watch a few and pull what she could from them. This one was full of flair, but not the kind of flashy attack that could get her punished. Its aerial, spinning flair was meant to confuse.

Now that she had that down, she decided she wanted to see what else she could do with it. The mechanics of the kick were sound; she always had momentum once she got herself going. That was a major difference she had recognized between herself and Big Evil. He grounded himself and stalked his opponents; caged them in and pounded them down.

Jack was just the opposite, darting in and out and constantly moving. She danced around her opponents and liked to confuse them until she had picked them apart, laying them up for a bigger, more punishing attack. They both looked for the weaknesses in their opponents, but Jack's way was more subtle and harder to discern once she got moving. Unfortunately, she generally needed room to work.

Riddick liked to close with her, pin her down and make her work. She supposed it was all to the good. She wanted to improve her ground game... at least that way he wouldn't have her every time she landed on the ground. Maybe she'd ask about that tonight during their spar.

With that in mind, she lunged at the bag yet again and laying into it with renewed vigor. She swore she was going to impress Riddick, tonight. Jack didn't like how she hadn't been much help to him on Daedalus. Didn't like how she felt helpless, at times. Didn't like how she felt like... _her_.

She gave an exclamation of anger as she drilled a right cross into the heavy punching bag. Then laid into the material with a series of punches and kicks that had the bag swinging left, right, and away. The intensity built until she could feel her muscles burning and the warmth on her skin from all the impacts. A left front kick sent the bag away and she followed, hammering home a left hook, making chains pull taut as the large cylinder swung clockwise. A right spinning roundhouse halted its movement and sent it swaying toward the middle--at her. Jack met it with a hard, left knee and a series of gut-abusing shovel hooks, rib-bashing uppercuts, and several hooks and elbows to the head area. Immediately, she switched over to more kicks; throwing knees and side kicks, round houses, and front kicks... and then a few spinning heels, back kicks, and leg-shots that invariably transitioned into either elbows or backfists.

A quick back handspring landed her in a crouch; put some room between herself and the swinging bag that was inches from slamming into her on the return. Her eyes blazed with a furious, green conflagration. She swung out a high, left roundhouse, stepped into a right spinning heel kick, and launched herself into the air. This time, the tornado kick was thrown with her right leg and she was rewarded with the same, healthy smack as before.

A small, grim smirk lit across her features that had nothing to do with humor.

'_Fuck her. I'm not weak!_'

* * *

Having grabbed herself some breakfast and some orange-pineapple juice, Rachel felt sufficiently awake enough to focus on something other than stuffing her face. There was an initial irritability, this morning. The girl had groped around for her glasses on the nightstand and knocked them off onto the floor. Still sleepy-eyed and having to turn the lights on sooner than she would have preferred lest she accidentally step on the glasses... didn't do anything for her morning disposition. This was nothing major, but the redhead was prone to letting small things affect her mood early on in the day. She just hoped that everything else went okay.

After the mouse finished her meal--which consisted of pancakes, eggs, hash, sausage, and bacon--she put her plate in the washer and turned back to her room, still carrying her half-finished glass of juice. Now more energized, she gave a large stretch and changed into her training clothes. A sleeveless shirt and some light sweatpants. She wasn't so worried about these if they got worn or a little ragged.

Since it was Saturday, she would only be doing her marksmanship training; Riddick's punishing training was finished until Monday morning... Rachel savored her softer weekend schedule. Out of her room and back to the kitchen, she refilled her glass with more juice and went back to the lounge. Down the stairs and into the lower hallway, she paused. There was a dull thumping of some audio playback coming from the workout room. Rachel slid the door open and was immediately and musically assaulted.

"_Bring the violence! It's significant to the life; If you've ever known anyone--Bring the violence! It's significant to the life--Can you feel it?_"

The screaming voice proclaimed, making her start and almost spill her glass of juice. It was a good thing she was mostly awake. In the room, she could see Jack enter a series of dizzying spinning kicks, finishing with an aerial kick that whirled the brunette through the air--ending with a explosive, violently energized kick. The slight smirk she saw upon the other girl's face told Rachel that Jack was satisfied with it.

Only then did the street rat notice the mouse's presence, and those green eyes whipped to grey-blue. Then Jack gave a glance to the digital clock above the lockers. It seemed Jack had been too into her training to notice the hour had passed. Thankfully, the girl lowered the volume on the music so they could talk without having to shout.

Rachel raised a brow as she walked inside, "...What are you listening to?"

"Disturbed," Jack replied easily.

"Yes, a little. I don't usually go for all the screaming-"

Jack shook her head, "No, the band is called 'Disturbed.' I took your advice and looked up some of those old groups--the dead ones, y'know. You were right, Rach; they're not all bad."

Rachel stared blankly at her. Leave it to Jack to find something dismaying in any topic. Maybe she should have looked closer at that era of music before suggesting it to the girl. Then again, she never really thought Jack would go through with it. At the time, she was just bringing it up because the loud music had been distracting her during her run on Sentry Sector. ...This music was possibly _more_ discomfiting.

"Anyway, can I borrow you for a sec? I'm just about done..."

The redhead blinked, "Uhm... okay? What'd you need?"

"I have this thing... I can't try it out to see if it works without a body. I was wonderin' if you could play prop for me."

"Sure," Rachel acquiesced with a shrug.

"What I was working on is a leap-frog sorta thing. I wanna quickly get to the other side of the guy before he can do anything about it."

"...Walk me through it."

So Rachel played the dummy, and let Jack walk her through it. From her understanding, she would take a knee to the stomach, and then a few knees to the face. If or when she tried to block with her arms or raise a leg to block the kicks, Jack wanted to hop her and use the momentum to knee the other side of her face. It was a technical, complicated move, but it was sound in theory.

They went through it slowly, getting down the particulars. The three knees--gut, head, head--were the easiest parts. At this point, someone blocking the knees to the head would be trying to rise up and block their face at the same time. That was when Jack wanted to put her hands on their back and fling herself over them, pushing the person back down and into a knee that came swinging from the other side. After the slow knees to meet her blocking forearms, she put some resistance into her bent-over stance. The brunette's hands went to her back and swung her lower body over Rachel, sort of cartwheeling over her. It _was_ a quick maneuver and Jack had a knee slowly approaching her while her head was still turned to the other side. If she didn't know where Jack was going, it would completely catch her off guard.

"It's kinda awkward going slow on it, I only need to touch down with one leg--and my other knee carries through..."

Rachel nodded her understanding, "How are you coming around? The smoother it is, the better, right?"

"Yeah. Lemme show you... When I push down," the street rat said, placing her hands on the mat performing a slow cartwheel with a twist, "It's like... just swing over. And when I land," she said, putting down one foot and quickly righting herself and raising a knee, "Wham. Right there."

"It's pretty dependent upon that hand spin in the middle, then, huh? Otherwise, you're facing the wrong way," the redhead intoned, to which Jack simply nodded, "You put your weight on their back to twist, because the neck isn't strong enough to support your weight. It's probably best to put your hand right between their shoulder blades.

"I can put some of those training pads on and you can try it full speed, if you'd like. Just to get a picture of it in your head..."

She could see that Jack was thinking about it as she explained, saw her absorbing the information and assimilating it. In many ways, Jack was as much a sponge for information as Rachel was--just in different areas. The skills they picked up were vastly different, but they all seemed to be geared toward the same goal, at this point: helping them to survive.

Rachel got the thick waist pad that made it awkward to move and grabbed one of their small, thick kick-pads. Jack would be throwing full-force knees at her, after all. She returned to the middle of the mat, where there was plenty of room, and nodded to the brunette.

Jack grabbed her arm and raised it out to the side, as through recently grabbed. The street rat was facing the mouse, snaked a hand behind her neck, and swung Rachel forward. The green-eyed girl blasted a knee into the harnessed pad over Rachel's stomach. The redhead didn't feel the brunt of the knee, but its force was enough in conjunction with the hand at the back of her neck to bend her over. Rachel quickly raised the pad and felt Jack shoving down on her head while bringing up the knees. The impacts sounded like gunshots at her proximity.

Her other arm was released and Rachel felt a sudden pressure on her back. Realizing what part of the technique this signified, Rachel quickly turned her hunched position to block the opposite side with the arm-held kick-pad and braced with both arms. She felt the slam of the knee even through the pad; not the pain, just the amazing power behind it. Then she felt her already poorly placed center of balance tip. That final knee bowled her over and sent her onto her side.

Rachel sat up, fixing her skewed glasses and gave a few startled blinks. Then she smiled and chuckled.

"Well, you'll certainly surprise someone with that. I doubt they'll be conscious to appreciate it, though..."

Jack snorted, but shared a small smile.

* * *

"I'll get our assignments for next week after I finish here."

Jack grumbled and Rachel smiled softly, "We're almost done. Less than half a year and we'll graduate. Then I can apply to Spartus U. ...I'm not sure if I can get online classes. If not, I'll have to wait a bit until I can actually attend."

Jack nodded and left for her shower and probably some meditation. After that, Rachel would probably find the girl in her room working on another shiv. It was odd how she was slowly getting used to what was 'average life' on the run with these two. To anyone else she knew back on Helion Prime, it might seem strange. After everything she had seen and been through with those two, Rachel just accepted it as common place. They had accepted her almost-excessive time on the com doing things under the hacker alias as Cerberus. She doubted most of the people on Helion would have found that normal, either.

The redhead didn't need to explain to Jack what attending college implied, it was obvious. If she had to physically attend classes, she wouldn't be with Jack and Riddick. They wouldn't wait--_couldn't_ wait four years for her to go to classes. The genius couldn't even _ask_ such a thing of them. Still, college was part of her ambitions in life. Jack's dream apparently involved traveling the universe with Riddick. Her dream involved writing programs and, possibly, starting her own business...

Jack wanted to take the pilot's exam, but that was a far cry from a full, four-year education. The brunette could do that in a week. If Rachel couldn't take online classes, their paths would separate. The redhead didn't like the idea and, if she could at all help it, she would stay with these two as long as she could. Another problem was how and when she would get back to her mother. Her mother was the only family Rachel had left. She adored living on Helion Prime, but knew how much of a restless soul Jack was--and how Riddick didn't stick around in one spot too much. _Moving targets are harder to hit_ and all that... Rachel honestly couldn't say what might happen when the time came that events saw their paths parting. It would be a sad time; but she could keep in contact, at least.

While she was with the street rat and the ex-convict, the redhead would just have to make the best of it. Help them as much as she could. This was what brought her to the next dilemma... When they had left Daedalus Station, Rachel couldn't help but feel a little useless. She was meant to be Riddick's backup. She hadn't been able to get a bead on either of the men when he'd marched out. If she could have nailed one of them, Riddick could probably have made it out, Jack wouldn't have left the vents, and so many complications could have been avoided. That was why she was determined to do better; promised herself not to let Jack or Riddick down. Whatever she was doing wasn't enough. The next time she needed the rifle, she'd be able to use it.

Rachel turned off Jack's music, which had been playing on a lower volume, and moved over to the weapons locker. The assault rifle, its machete removed and placed next to the gun, resided ominously next to other, smaller firearms. The slot where info-cards might be entered--such as DNA encoding cards--was on the side of the weapon. The girl took the V-Arms link card and plugged it into the slot.

#Welcome to V-Arms Training System, Deluxe Edition. This program brought to you by Company. Please stand by...#

#Checking Clip. Empty.#

#Checking Chamber. Empty.#

#Checking Safety. On.#

#Please select mode:

#1) Stationary

#2) Point-to-Point Mobile

#3) Free-Roaming Mobile#

Rachel chose Free-Roaming Mobile mode and stood on the starting disc it projected onto the ground for calibration and starting point. At that point, it asked for the ranges. This time, she was going to challenge herself.

'_Maybe not too difficult, but I need to push my boundaries.'_

#Please set minimum target distance.#

"Two meters."

#Please set maximum target distance.#

"Um... 500 meters."

#Please calibrate firearm.#

It took her a few short moments to calibrate it, and she always took the utmost care to make sure she was dead on. Calibration was important to the AI that configured how the sights of the firearm matched up with the projection. If it wasn't done carefully, Rachel might find herself firing off the mark in real life.

The thump of each hollow discharge was comforting to her, now. The first time she'd picked it up from Jack, it had made her sore. When the time came, there would be the deafening report to follow. On that day, when she finally had to pull the trigger on someone... to end a life--most likely protecting herself, Jack, or Riddick--she would be damn sure they were down for good. One of her biggest fears was that she would clip someone, think she'd put them down, and wind up paying for it later.

#Program ready.#

"Open scenario," Rachel commanded, then picked one of the tougher intermediate runs from a lengthy category of titles. "Multiple-ranged, hostile targets."

#Scenario loaded.#

"Optional parameters," she appended. This would be better if she could get a little bit of everything in this workout. The list appeared and she browsed through the headings and their selections. "Setting: Urban. Adverse Conditions: Rain and Night. Obstacles: Non-combatants, Blindspots, and Disguises."

#Would you like to save this scenario in My Scenarios for later use?#

"Yes. Begin."

Her rifle's display piece raised up and the small screen displayed '20' in bright green. So... 19 in the magazine and one in the chamber. Rachel knew the empty, rectangular cartridge normally held 20 rounds. The program had the gun prepped and simulated her magazine appropriately.

The wall darkened for a moment before being replaced with the image of an urban hallway in a dingy, inhospitable apartment building. There was dust and all manner of refuse, as though garbage cans had filled and promptly spilled over into the hallway. The light was dim, as the only light came in at either end of the hallway of apartments, where the dust-crusted windows had long since broken and never been replaced. In fact, some of the doors on the apartments were missing, as well. Outside the far window, steam rose from a grate with a sepulchral sigh, further obscuring the hallway and throwing odd, moving shadows into it.

There were other sounds, too; mostly a hollow rush of air, but there were minute echoes of people shuffling about or muttering quietly between themselves. The wails of a baby came from behind a door about halfway down the hallway. Beneath this din of atmospheric depression was a soft crackle of what could have been a fire--for warmth or light... perhaps both. She could hear the occasional hover-car or 'transport whisk by the building with a whirring hum of propulsion.

Rachel tensed, almost expecting to _smell_ the decay around her, '_This is what I get for setting detail to maximum..._'

The projected dot she stood upon was red and a message on the wall read: #Wait...# The view automatically advanced a few steps. Suddenly, a man came running out of the apartment on her right! Gunfire erupted from of the empty door frame of the apartment and hammered him in the back, slamming him against the wall across the hall. He slumped and hit the ground; dead. Blood trailed down the wall and slowly dribbled from his chest. The view advanced to a few feet from the wall next to the doorway the gunfire had come from, then stopped. The red dot below her disappeared, replaced with a wide, 20- by 30-foot, green-shaded activity range for her movement in the environment. The screen flashed #GO# at her before the screen completely cleared and she was in control of the viewpoint. Rachel's took a few steps forward, placing the view flush with the wall, to the right of the doorway. She leaned left with the rifle at the ready, quickly pulling back; the peek showed her that there were three men in the room, one with a shotgun--the other two had handguns. They didn't stand out in any noticeable way--that is, they weren't wearing riot gear or dressed flashily. In fact, they were all wearing jeans and tee-shirts, two of them had jackets--one a dark green and the other black.

Rachel gave another peek took inventory of the room. They were around a table looking at a com screen. There was a couch and a doorway off this main room that probably led to the rest of the apartment. To the left was a half-wall divider that led into the kitchen. She also noticed that they were turned away from the door. Rachel thumbed the selector to single-action; now she was prepared. The girl sidestepped and fired three quick shots that took them out. There was a small spray of blood from their chests as her rounds tore through them and their bodies were flung to the thinly bare, rotting, hardwood floor.

Rachel quickly darted back beside the wall when she saw the door to what might be the bedroom swing open. She was correct, obviously, because several guns erupted in short bursts and speckled the wall across from her with a dozen holes. This, she realized, wasn't like a movie--she couldn't just run in and take them out with several extremely well-aimed shots. ...Well, not yet, but maybe someday.

The redhead switched her selector to three-round burst mode and quickly entered in a crouch to present a smaller target. She fired off four sets toward the doorway on the way and jumped for the half-wall, half-counter of the studio apartment's kitchen for cover. The view reoriented itself for her so that her 'forward' view against the kitchen counter matched the image projected on the wall. The girl raised herself up from her knee and poked her head and gun over the counter top, only to pull back as several glasses and jars exploded in a hail of bullets from the doorway. Rachel scrambled for the edge of the wall and leaned out just long enough to unload another three rounds at the doorway.

There was a cry of pain and another series of shots in return fire. She leaned out again after the flurry and squeezed the trigger twice--a double-recoil occurred on the first... _not_ the triplicate thrum she was used to feeling. The second squeeze gave her a plaintive _click_. Pulling back, the girl looked at her gun display, which now read: '00.' The redhead flicked the ejector with her thumb and pulled out the empty magazine from atop the rifle; as far as she remembered, she had to pull it out and put it back in to simulate reloading. Rachel fumbled with the magazine as she tried to force it back in before realizing she had to slide it in from the back; in the process of figuring out how to put the magazine back in, she dropped it on the floor. Scrambling for the thing, she finally slid it in and slapped it down. Rachel looked up to find that several men were now rushing her!

Immediately, she backed off and raised her rifle, but four handguns filled the projection with flashes of light. The wall promptly went black and displayed a rather depressing and blunt message:

#Scenario Failed.

#Retry: Yes/No.#

"_Yes_," she angrily bit out as she moved back to the center. That was an epic failure on her part; but she'd never really had to bother with loading the magazine. The fact that the number of bullets in it never really registered in her mind made her feel more than a little stupid.

'_Damnit! I know I can do this!_'

#Wait...#

The scene rewound and reloaded. Every run was randomized, even with the same scenario; it kept things from becoming set and made a person constantly adapt. This time, as the view moved down the hall, a door of an apartment on her left promptly blew to splinters and gunfire sounded from inside. The view advanced quickly to the doorway and took a peek inside--just long enough for her to spot a shotgun level at the door and fire! The view jerked back and the wall across from the apartment was pock-marked with bits of buckshot.

#GO.#

Almost immediately, someone came running out of the room. Even as he turned upon spotting her, she saw the shotgun in his hand and fired her rifle. Three bullets tore through his head and splattered his brains and bits of skull down the hallway. He slumped in a bloody mess and she pulled a face.

_'Maximum detail...'_

Rachel swallowed and steeled herself. She would just have to get used to this sort of thing; have to desensitize herself. This gore would likely smell like Hell in real life. It was best to prepare herself as much as possible before she had to do it for real.

...No time for an in-depth introspection on the matter. The hacker-become-markswoman shoved her emotional responses back. Letting her concentration and focus lead her. Ever goal-oriented, her worries about the blood and the life she had just ended paled in comparison to her goals. They were obstacles. They chose this path. Like all obstructions to her goals, she would remove them. As Aeacus, she had a zero-tolerance policy on hindrances. Rachel would emulate this policy with the rifle.

Now conscious of her rate of fire, she switched the selector to two-round burst-fire. She felt it was more practical and it gave her more shots. This time--now that she was aware of it--she would be ready to change the magazine, too. Rachel took a quick peek into the room and saw no one in there. She slowly advanced into the room. The program simulated the sound of her feet over splinters of wood from an explosion. It was disconcerting; she didn't feel the chips under her shoes as she normally would. Once more, she quickly made her way toward the kitchen area. There were two people huddling there; neither was armed.

The redhead cautiously moved back into the living room area. There was what appeared to be what was left of packaged drugs and a chemistry set laying amid the wreckage of what might have once been a table. Most of it was flaming. All around there were cinders; some of them were still settling upon a body that had been caught in the explosion. Whoever this was that screwed it up, they had paid for it.

Noise to her left had her darting to the side, where she saw a recliner chair. Bullets ripped through her previous location and Rachel landed in a crouch. Immediately, the view reoriented for her new cover and the mousy markswoman leaned just slightly to fire once into the doorway to the bedroom. The exchange dropped one body. Three more took its place; from the sound of the scrambling feet inside the bedroom, numbers were really against her. This was a tactically unsound position. She heard a sudden scuffle from the bedroom and someone made a break for it. She swung her view to the left and aimed diagonally toward the doorway.

The man that went by had no firearm. He was followed by someone who did; she was up and running even as she put two rounds in his back as he reached the door jamb. She was out the door, probably stepping on his body, as she once more exited the apartment. Granted, she had no cover here, but the people inside the room were simply too dangerous to take on while they had the home-field advantage, so to speak.

The man whom she'd probably saved was pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the door, breathing heavily. The camera once again reoriented to the wall-facing position. She glanced at her display; it read: '13.'

Rachel could hear whispering and shuffling from inside the bedroom. She couldn't reach them from her position, but there was no adequate cover. She also didn't want to endanger the people in there. Civilian casualties as a result of her actions would end the scenario, too.

There were many factors she hadn't considered before starting this. The redhead was adaptable, though. If nothing else, she knew that. For now, she would wait. After a few seconds, three of the men emerged from the room and spread out into the living room--the other two remained in the doorway. She needed to eliminate that bedroom as a viable place to hide; it was providing as much cover for them as this hallway was for her.

Kneeling down, she leaned in and hammered one of the men closest to the kitchen with two bullets, then instinctively fired two more in the direction of the doorway. The last shot didn't hit anything, but it was best to keep them reactive instead of proactive. More bullets speckled the wall across from the hall door as they returned fire. She heard someone eject a clip. She leaned in and quickly picked out the clip on the floor behind the chair she had been using for cover. He wasn't presenting much of a lethal target--but she could see a knee...

Switching to single-fire she blasted his kneecap in a spray of blood. She leaned back in time for a second flurry of shots to slam into the wall she used for cover. Rachel heard the man fall over with a scream and wondered if he was more visible now. There was still one man supposedly in the room--if he hadn't run back into that damned bedroom.

The markswoman almost blindly fired in the direction of the bedroom while quickly identifying the downed man, whose upper torso was now exposed from behind the chair; a still, exposed target was an easy one. Without hesitation, Rach slammed a slug into his skull. His yells of pain ended immediately and with a gross splattering of visceral cranium-guts. The other man was nowhere in sight; probably back in the bedroom.

With seven bullets remaining, she decided that she had to take out the remaining three men quickly. There were other places she needed to clear in this area of threats. But how to get them out? ...Then it hit her. If she could panic them, she would have the advantage. The bedroom was dark and probably had boarded up windows. The bare light bulb threw the room into sharp relief from the dingy lighting out in the hallway. Suddenly, Rachel had a plan and that meant that it was game over.

The mousy girl darted in and blasted off several shots at the ceiling as she went. The third shot nailed the overhead light, which sparked and plunged the room into darkness. The only light came from the hallway, which was so faded inside the room that it only allowed for vague silhouettes against the pitch black. Shots blasted wildly after her while she tumbled into the kitchen again, briefly throwing a strobe effect of her surroundings. She could hear the two civilians in there screaming.

"_Shut up_!" she hissed.

The AI was apparently advanced enough to take verbal orders like that, since the two quickly quieted down. They weren't _silent_, but it was as good as she figured she would get. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. _Maybe_ she had some reluctant troops--after a fashion. Rachel whispered to them.

"Reach into one of those drawers and toss something over the counter and into the living room," she whispered in their direction. From the sound of it, neither moved, "Do it!"

The markswoman edged her way to the corner of the kitchen's counter, poking herself out just enough to see into the living room and diagonally across the room--where the bedroom door lie. She heard the sound of shifting clothing and a drawer open behind her. There was silence, then the sound of some silverware clattering into the living room.

In the resulting gunfire from the room, she fired the last four shots from her rifle and heard someone's choking, interspersed with further gunfire. In a controlled haste, she flipped the mag ejector, pulled the magazine back and up, waited half a moment... The girl then forcefully slid the magazine forward and down into the well. The display now read: '20' once more and she switched the selector to two-round burst again. Immediately following this, Rachel began pounding rounds at the doorway again; they hadn't a clue where she was, exactly, but they would soon. It was all the more reason to get it right the first time.

In the frenzied moments that followed, she had downed the two of them. However, she couldn't verify any kills. Rachel switched on the built-in flashlight and slowly approached, keeping quiet and off to the side, skirting around the walls of the room toward the doorway. The two men there weren't moving... weren't breathing. A quick sweep around the bedroom revealed a typical, small bedroom with a tiny, connected bathroom.

The atmosphere was still as she approached the bathroom, wary of one last person in hiding. Luck was with her--the area was clear. Her magazine had 14 rounds left. Wiping her brow, she decided it was time to move on. As she moved out of the doorway and back into the hall, the screen displayed another #Wait...#

This time, she had a better idea of what she was doing right and what she was doing wrong. There were more civilians and only four people. She was almost knifed by one in disguise, but she put him down without shooting anyone else. Of course, then the people started scattering. It was chaotic and when the gunners came out, she was hard pressed to fire at them from cover when most of it was taken and there were always people running between them. Rachel managed--somehow--and continued to clear the room. The last man had hidden himself in the bathroom, in the porcelain bathtub with a rifle. That had almost had her restarting the whole blasted scenario; it was only luck and reflexes that had her punching holes through the tub and into the last gunner.

Following that room, she had satisfied the indoors portion of the scenario. The next round took her up to the rooftops. The stairwells, air-vents, and some small shacks probably housing tools or whatnot were providing some excellent cover--for both herself and the opposition. The sky was clear and it was mid-day on the roofs of this urban slum area. There were several men who were trying to escape into a small, space-worthy personnel transport. A blizzard of gunfire came from the ship until she finally decided to take out the pilot. The transport took a dive and shortly afterward filled the air with an explosion that soon settled into a plume of smoke and the sound of burning fuel. That left only five men on the roof, but two of them began running rooftops. She took out the three men here and reloaded.

#Wait...#

That was when her sharpshooting skills came into play. The auto-advancement of her viewpoint only took her to the edge of the roof, where it was clear that she was to take out the men--now a rooftop and a half away. She really would have to look into a scope and barrel extension for things like this--maybe even a scope with nightvision or-... First things first; she would have to eyeball this one.

#GO.#

This was a major point for her; she wanted to do this better than anything of the other skills she was learning with the rifle. She preferred keeping things at a distance--long-range tactics for her usually included calmly waiting for the _just_ the right moment, then putting down the opposition with decisive, precision strikes. She took a few deep breaths and imagined she was walking next to them... tried to feel out how they ran, tried to predict their next moves. It took three shots, but she took out both runners before they reached the fourth roof from her position.

#Wait...#

As she waited for the auto-advancement to complete itself by taking her down a ladder and into an alleyway between the buildings, she took note of the skies weather conditions shifting impossibly fast. One moment it was sunny and there was normal visibility... in the next, the sky was darkened with stormclouds. Thunder and rain filled the speakers and overpowered almost all other sounds with rolling tympanic sounds and a constant drumroll of billions of raindrops falling in an asynchronous torrent. Visibility was cut down to _maybe_ fifteen yards ahead.

The result was so dramatic and real that, even knowing she could look behind herself and see the silhouette of punching bags, she felt as though she should be drenched. The surrounding sound of it all did not match the single-wall view she had, but it was enough to lend an atmosphere of oppressive difficulty. It was in this setting that her low-visibility close-quarters combat training would commence.

#GO.#

Here she had to be at the top of her game. Armed combatants lurked behind dumpsters and garbage cans, around corners, and in cul-de-sacs. Every opponent was armed: rifles, shotguns, handguns, knives, pipes, boards, and broken bottles... At one point, she shot a man in the chest that lobbed a brick at her. She had more than a few startled jolts and was sometimes lunging for cover when there was no threat. The imagery instilled no small sense of paranoia on her part. In this section, she reloaded more often than she probably should have, but she felt very uncomfortable about heading anywhere with less than half a mag.

Eventually, she satisfied the requirements despite a few _very_ close calls. Rachel was glad it was over. She hated this rain condition; it was a good thing to practice, but she swore to herself that if she ever encountered weather like this, she would attempt to wait it out before making any attempts. Real weather like that would have been her death, she was sure.

The auto-advancement thankfully engaged. That meant that there should only be one more part to this scenario: the low-visibility, long-range targets. The program took her out onto a wide road with hover-cars scattered along the roadside. The daylight had bled away and in its place was stark night, the only light provided by a few street lights that cast glowing spots on the ground, but left the middle of the road more or less blank. The weather was mercifully clear. There were plenty of places for cover and she wondered how she was going do this without a night-vision scope.

Rachel found herself paying more attention to what she could hear and trying to pick out minute movements on the darkened projection on the wall. She used the cars and the darkness to her advantage, keeping out of sight while trying to use the best vantage point at any given moment. Any time she saw movement, she had a bead on it. It didn't always turn out to be one of her marks. Still, she found it to be the safest route and, in the end, it proved useful as she nailed the three people. A man and a woman had handguns and one man had a rifle. As the man with the rifle fell to the ground in a spray of blood, the scenery slowly faded.

#Retries: 1

#Ammunition Expenditure: 1.625 : 1

#Reaction Time: .45 s / Goal Time: .2 s

#Accuracy: 81%

#Clear Time: 33:42 / Goal Time: 16:00

#Mortality Rating: 67%

#Overall Score: 1186 / 1600

#Program complete.#

It wasn't excellent by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, her mortality rating and ammunition expenditure made her wince. She had a lot of work to do, but she knew she could--_would_ improve. It would take patience and dedication, but those were things she had in spades. She might even ask Riddick for some pointers; he seemed like a person that would know something about these sorts of things. When the day came that she finally finished her training and was ready to engage someone with confidence...

'_Cry havoc,_' Rachel thought with a grim smile.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

First, I feel I must apologize for leaving everyone hanging. I didn't mean to, but nobody really ever means to catch a bad case of writer's block. In this case, I rode out a few months of it. Felt like drowning. All these ideas and no way to get them onto the page in a satisfactory way! Gr... hate writer's block.

Still, I managed and I hope this longer chapter--an extra 5 pages onto my usual limitation of 22 pages--sort of makes up for it. This time, I decided to show you the V-Arms training program. I wanted to display Rachel's aptitude and her shortcomings. Sure, she can hit a target, but people aren't really like stationary targets; neither do targets bleed. Rachel is slowly becoming accustomed to the idea of killing if necessary.

The original idea for this chapter also included Jack's spar with Riddick, but I had already hit 27 pages and decided to make it part of the next chapter. I should hope it doesn't take anywhere _near_ as long!

There's not a whole lot that happens in this chapter beyond the introduction of Nemaeus 4 and the start of this chunk of story. It's finally been brought up that Jack needs help. As you can tell, this means _oodles_ of _fun_ for _all_. Heh. Also, Jack and Rachel continue their training and are growing as women (and maybe animals, too). Rachel as an animal moreso than Jack, perhaps--in that she is finally accepting what it would mean to kill. I hope I didn't bore you with this, but it is a 'new' beginning, as it were.

...I also have a few things I would like to address as far as this story as a whole is concerned. I'm not sure if I addressed this, but I can promise all of you (and sleepless in rio) that I am not skipping the "important stuff." I simply have not reached any of it, yet. We _will_ be going to Crematoria and we _will_ be seeing the Necromongers. The scenes will change, since Jack never went to Crematoria; that's part of the twists I plan to introduce in this story.

This is not a short story, as witnessed by this chapter's end at the top of page 320. I'm not rushing this story and I would hope those that enjoy this story also enjoy its length. I can tell you that I have nine arcs in this story... so far. I'm pretty sure it will end on the ninth arc. Currently, we have completed the "Return to Helion Arc" and "Daedalus Arc." We have entered the "Nemaeus Arc," now... so we have the whole of the Nemaeus Arc and six more to go through. You could even go as far to say that we're 2/9 of the way through Chronicle of Darkness. I've so much story to share with all of you and I hope you will enjoy it thoroughly.

To answer the question, "What is that Rachel doing this far up in the story?" That's a fairly simple answer. She is a main character. One of four... The four are Riddick, Jack, Rachel, and another character not yet introduced. Rachel, herself, drives the story in new directions--beyond the _Pitch Black_, _Dark Fury_, and _Chronicles of Riddick_ storylines and plots. The Riddick universe is expansive and very open-ended. I want to show people more of how I see it: a multi-system, multi-plot galaxy full of things to explore! Using Riddick, Jack, Rachel, and that other character, I will bring you into a vast and hopefully interesting story you will remember for quite a while!

All those other characters support these four characters. I know it may seem confusing, but all other characters are secondary or supplemental. I do not create characters merely to toss them by the wayside when I have completed a scene. Just because I have not returned to them just yet, only means that you must be patient before you see them pop up again. Zimmy, Lynne, Kiara, C4sper/Torvald, Nicholas/Saint Nick... they're all coming back!

Ah, yes--I almost forgot. About these numerous characters: I now have a Glossary (it's going to be perpetually posted as the last chapter, updated with new entries every time someone new comes on-scene). You may reference it for anyone, anywhere, and anything of importance that you can't recall. This is my attempt at cutting down the confusion created by having so many characters in a single story.

In addition, you may want to check out the link to the Chronicle of Darkness reference material from photobucket (there's a link on my profile). I have added several pictures to the mix, including: pictures Lynne Fortuna, Jack's Big Evil shiv, and a map of Riddick's ship (_The Gift of Nyx_). I'm still working on Jack's Lesser Evil shiv; I hope to get it to you sometime soon!

Well, this has been a very long rant and I'll end it here. Hope you continue to enjoy!

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	20. 20: FUBAR

20

"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 20: FUBAR_

At the start of the night, 22:30, Jack entered the workout room. The central lights were only at 20 percent, whereas the dome-bulbs nearer the walls and corners were off. The effect was a large square of dim light that would serve as the arena. Obviously, Riddick was already inside. She couldn't see him or hear him, but that didn't mean anything.

Jack had changed back into her workout clothes before she came down--they were so worn in the knees and elbows she wondered when the first hole would appear; maybe tonight. Such was the fate of most of her workout clothes.

The street rat had expressed to Riddick during dinner that she wanted to know more about how to protect herself if she were grounded. First, however, he would have to test her thoroughly to see what she needed to work on. He knew she wasn't inept; but she didn't like feeling... _mediocre_. She knew several holds and strikes, but if someone like Riddick restricted her maneuverability, she needed to figure out how to work in close quarters.

The brunette stretched herself out, making sure she was limber and prepared. She could feel her heart rate rising, as it always did, when she was about to enter a fight. Rolling her neck slowly, she stood perfectly still in the center of the room. Her animal circled warily inside her as she tried to discern the escaped convict's position. It was so still and quiet that she could hear the dryer in the laundry room. Just as Jack was tuning into the tumbling rumble of the dryer, she heard something off-kilter.

The sound of footsteps, asynchronous to the sounds of the ship, filled the space between the dulled, atmospheric percussion. She turned to her right and took several, bouncing back-steps. There he was, stalking her again; prowling out of the shadows, larger than life--as always. He didn't halt his advance when she moved back. Instead, he continued to trudge forward in that inexorable and intrusive way...

* * *

Jack wouldn't make the first attack this early. She never did. The girl would always let him set the pace. There were problems with being proactive and reactive in every situation. If Jack was reactive, she couldn't control her opponent. That was the strange thing about her; she'd somehow managed to turn that to her _advantage_.

She made him come to her and reveal the first move. The street rat would read his move and react, suddenly becoming proactive and making him defend her counters. Riddick had to give her credit for it.

'_More tricks up her sleeve than a talent show at Butcher's._'

There were things he wanted to address--not just her ground game. That would come later. Right now, he wanted to see if she would pull any surprises tonight. Their last spar had involved a lot of her combinations, but he had caught onto something: roughly a third of them ended in a backfist. Even realizing that statistic didn't keep him from eating three or four that night.

'_Jack can throw that thing in anywhere... but it's getting old. Told her not to get repetitive._'

So thinking, Riddick opened up with a feint of a right hook, pulling back before any momentum had built up. He then unleashed a left hook at her jaw; it would have fooled a few, but Jack knew what to look for. Her eyes, until then locked with his, went to his right but quickly disregarded it and ducked under his left. The street rat checked him at the wrist with her right hand and pushed his punch high and to the side. Jack darted in; now inside his attack, she sent a gut shot at him. Luckily, he had his right arm at the ready from the feint and his hand shot down to grab her left wrist.

* * *

When he halted her drilling strike to the stomach, she was quick to react. Riddick with a hold on her was not where she wanted to be. She rotated her wrist and arm, breaking his grip and snaring his wrist with the same hand. Now she had him! Jack spun in so her back touched his chest, then firmly locked her right arm about his upper arm. With a harsh tug that doubled her over, she twisted her upper body and threw him over her shoulder. Riddick gave out a surprised grunt to find himself lifted off the ground and swung over her.

His body made an impressive thump-slap.

'_Now!_'

Still gripping his right wrist with her left, Jack dropped to her right knee and hurled her fist down at his face. Before she could break his nose, the flat of his palm halted her strike's progression.

* * *

Riddick managed to use his feet and left hand to slap down, saving him from a rather unpleasant impact. A tucked chin prevented a smarting skull. It was this softening that allowed him to see her drop to one knee. His palm burned from the impact of her blow, but he snagged the fist in its entirety. So doing, he used her grip on his arm against her and swung her to his other side. Jack gave a Rachel-esque squeak as she sailed over him.

It wasn't a soft landing, but it wasn't anything that would wind her--he would have to act quickly. As if spring-loaded, he launched off his back and flipped his body atop her. At the same time, she practically read his intent and curled up into a fetal position. Instead of landing on the brunette and mounting her, he found his stomach on her feet.

* * *

Jack grunted under his weight, but persevered. The girl shoved her legs out with a strained growl that slowly turned into an small exclamation of effort. Riddick knew what she was doing, but couldn't stop her. It wasn't easy, but she kicked him off and behind her. This time, his back did impact and she heard the dull whoosh of air from him.

The street rat decided to gain some distance, as Riddick had pulled her entirely too close for this round. She liked to dart in and dart out, but he had effectively eliminated her maneuvering space. Jack couldn't pull off any of her combination attacks to keep him on the defensive when he did that. Big Evil only had openings if you went _hunting_ for them.

Rocking forward, she tumbled along the ground and popped back up to her feet. Riddick was heavy and it hadn't been easy to shove him off her. It would be best to avoid getting in that situation again... Riddick, for his part, simply rolled over and stood up. He made it look so fluid that there was almost no sense of victory for having downed him.

* * *

Riddick was impressed that she managed to evade that attempt to mount, but she had expended quite a bit of energy in shoving him away. She might have escaped, but she couldn't pull off many more stunts like that before she was totally gassed. Though they'd worked on her endurance, she simply wasn't on par with him--would likely never be. That simply meant that she would have to find alternatives to these long, drawn-out situations.

The rules for conservation and expenditure of energy that he'd first taught her would work here. If she couldn't expend as much as he could, she would have to learn how to conserve energy with every attack. He decided that he would have to teach her ways of honing down her techniques.

This time, Jack was the one that stalked forward. She looked quite _feline_ doing so. The fire in her eyes told him she was pumped--he had set the pace with that first skirmish. Now she would go on the offensive. ...She didn't disappoint.

* * *

Jack raised her knee high, feinting a right, front-kick. Instead of kicking out, she stomped down and lashed out with a harsh, looping over-the-head haymaker from her left fist that caught Riddick in the cheek. His head turned with his face scrunched for a moment, one silvery ocular closed for an instant. Then the man's head turned back to her--accompanied by a large elbow arcing down at her head.

The brunette raised her right forearm and took it, wincing at the impact; that would be bruising prettily later. Her eyes went wide when she saw a follow up right hook surging toward her. The girl ducked and stepped outside. Once outside and past his guard, Jack fired off a 1-2 combo into his ribs and stomach.

* * *

Riddick grunted lightly at the dual impacts, but swung his right arm back in a vicious backhand arm-swat. His forearm caught Jack full across the clavicle; he could feel as well as hear the air briskly leave her as she was lifted off her feet and flung a yard and a half away. She landed hard and coughed once. After taking a deep breath, she was rolling and standing. That had taken a lot out of her, he could tell. She would start rushing him, now.

This was where she shined. Jack liked the height of combat, when all the chips were down and she had to give it her all. When she was pushed, the teen was fucking miraculous with the shit she thought up. He had predicted correctly, the street rat charged.

Jack turned her momentum into a rush of kicks, medium and low that had him blocking and lifting his forward leg to check. Finally she sent a spinning heel-kick at his head, which he summarily ducked, that stepped into what appeared to be a mid-height roundhouse. He raised his arm to block it, but there was no impact.

'_Shit._'

* * *

Jack's fake-out kick had the desired effect and her leg was cocked and ready to unleash; he had already blocked and opened his guard. Jack delivered a mid-level side kick to his chest that sent him rocking backward. He rolled with it along his shoulders and popped up to his feet, but the girl could tell he was feeling it.

Now she needed to set him up. The brunette's mind raced ahead in the fight, quickly worked out a scenario that she liked, and decided to go for it. Jack rushed him again and ripped out a wild straight punch with her left. Even though he side-stepped, she carried through and spun into a right elbow, which he blocked.

Her back was to him, which wasn't good at all. Jack mule-kicked her right leg and he once more evaded it by dodging to the side, so she went for an unconventional ridge-hand with her left. It was grabbed at the forearm.

* * *

When her other arm shot out for his brachial nerve, Riddick let to and took a step back to switch his stance. She matched his stance by swinging her far leg out at his forward leg. He raised his leg and took it harmlessly on his shin. She continued to spin and attempted one of her backfists. Big Evil leaned away and, before he could capitalize on the miss, she danced away with several bouncing back-steps.

That backfist was going to get her into trouble, one of these days. The next time she tried that, he was going to show her where repetition could take her. That last combo had done nothing by and large; the backfist had been expected, even. Sure, he knew her and knew her proclivities toward that attack, but someone analyzing her in a fight would pick up on the same thing if the fight dragged out.

* * *

That last combo had been ineffective, but at least she set up precedent for that backfist. ...Still, she would have liked for _one_ of those attacks to have landed! Well, it was time to pull out all the stops. She would probably start to tire if she kept this up and that would be when Riddick pounced.

Jack closed in almost carefully and zipped out a few kicks and punches. After a few exchanges that ensured some bruises and scratches, she started into a chain of attacks which she felt would be sufficiently confusing enough to ensure she at least impressed him. Jack decided to _open_ with a backfist that transitioned into a spinning back kick. He leaned away from the former and slapped away the latter.

* * *

Jack let into him with a series of punches and knees and did a good job of keeping him on his toes. Riddick was moving a lot more than normal, dodging rather than blocking because he couldn't be sure if she'd set up a guard-breaking technique or a counter. She was tricky like that. He had a few surprises of his own, though.

A few of those punches managed to find their way home. He leaned outside one of her strikes, pounded her ribs with his right fist, and thus momentarily stemmed the tide of her punching flurry. She rebutted with a left knee aimed at his gut. When he'd caught it with his palm and shoved it back down, he saw her pivot. Riddick was ducking before the backfist arrived. Like clockwork, it sailed over his head.

'_Combo and a backfist again. Not this time, J-_'

When her feet left the ground, he had time to tilt his head and look up at the whirling form that was Jack. Riddick's world went bright and dim at the same time, senses spinning in a painful carousel of confusion. He felt himself stumble backward, but couldn't catch his footing. As though his legs were made of rubber, they simply gave out beneath him. Big Evil faltered, then fell back on his ass.

Although severely rocked--by what, he couldn't exactly remember--Riddick resolutely held onto his consciousness. It was a tenuous connection; his senses were _intact_, but nothing _made_ sense...

* * *

Jack froze. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but the way he fell wasn't it. He seemed really stunned!

'_Well,_ duh_,_' her mind mocked her, '_It's amazing he's not just laid out after taking a kick like that._'

It had gone exactly as she had planned in her practice earlier that morning. The moment her left foot had touched the mat after the knee, her right leg rose and that left leg launched her into the air. She rapidly rotated in the air and she turned her head to spot Riddick. He was rising up on the offensive. Jack's rotation finished when her right leg touched down and her left foot whirled out. The impact on the side of his head made a meaty smack and she could feel his muscled form give. It was almost in slow motion that she had both feet on the ground and ready to go after him when his guard opened from the kick...

Then time resumed its normal pace and kick-started her sensibilities. The first one to make it was, admittedly, surprise. She had managed to win a spar. That had _never_ happened. Sure, she scored a few hits and some nice accomplishments against Big Evil, but she'd never managed to take down the escaped convict...

The next emotion to cross her was worry. What if she'd really hurt him? Most times she'd hit him, he had just shrugged it off with a shake of the head. The men she fought in the Pit just kinda... went down for the count.

"Oh, _shit_! ... Riddick, are-... are you okay?"

Jack moved over to him and he shifted his weight to one side. In the next moment, Riddick's large hand had seized her by the neck!

* * *

Riddick had managed to grab whatever or whoever was in the room with him. With a lurch, he bore the body to the ground, pinned it by their neck. His right hand could feel the soft skin of something... Something human. Looming over the body, Riddick's silver eyes stared down with a cold, animalistic fury.

A face stared back at him, eyes wide and mouth open. The person made a choking sound. His animal side stared blankly at her for almost ten seconds. Then it suddenly recoiled. Recognition hit Riddick like a sledge hammer.

'_Jack._'

His hand let go of her and jerked back as though burned. Little by little, the blanks began to fill in. It was night. They were in the workout room--Jack and himself. It was Saturday and they were sparring. Finally, he shook the last of the cobwebs out of his mind. A few clung to the darker corners, so he shook his head again.

"Y-" Jack broke for several coughs, then rubbed her neck as she continued in a slight rasp, "You okay?"

'_Am_ I_ okay?_' Riddick silently questioned. He'd nearly strangled her and she was worried about _him_? Instead of answering her question, he shrugged off her concern and replied, "You didn't follow up."

"What?"

"Your opponent was down--you didn't follow up and finish."

* * *

Jack looked at him incredulously, "It surprised me! I wasn't sure how to react when you just... just _fell_. You've never done that before..."

Riddick regarded her silently for a moment and she felt herself blush, even over the heat of her body created during the fighting. _What_? He did just fall!

"...but you can't hesitate when your life's on the line. You see someone go down, you finish them."

The girl nodded, "Got it."

"Alright... Let's try this again."

"Are you sure you're up for it?"

Riddick _looked_ at her again. Still, she didn't want to do something if he wasn't ready for it. Not, of course, that she thought Riddick was incapable or weak. It was just that... Well, she didn't _know_ what it was, exactly. She just felt hesitant. The _look_ continued.

"Okay, okay. Round three it is."

If Riddick said he was good, then he was. There was no question in her mind that he was well-capable of kicking her ass even now. That was why, when she charged, she wasn't the least bit surprised when he surged to his feet to meet her.

* * *

Jack came at him and left the ground. He ducked under an aerial spinning heel kick. When she landed, she continued her rotation and lashed out with a mid-low heel kick from the same leg. Riddick blocked and gripped her ankle. The escaped convict rose to full height, pulling the leg with him. Jack let her leg go slack and allowed him to lift it.

Her flexibility and poise always impressed him. She was standing on one foot in a vertical split, hands still at the ready to punch his lights out if he stepped closer. Raising her leg and pushing back on it, he advanced to put her off balance. Instead of falling, she leaned back. Her arms stretched above her as if to catch her. Motion from below him had Riddick leaning back.

Jack's grounding foot, which had previously been on the ground, ripped through the air where his face had been less than a quarter-second ago. He could feel the air of the kick buffet his face. He had to let go of her ankle to completely avoid the blow. Dropping Jack let her swing herself into a crouch.

Coming back from his recoil, he darted in like a steamroller, charging her with the full intent to bear her to the ground. If he could get a leg at the knee or thigh, he'd take her down. Jack didn't sprawl--he wasn't sure she knew to do it in the first place--so half her problem was that she _could_ be taken down easily. The other half of her problem was that she didn't know all the maneuvers to keep herself out of trouble; her fighting skills from the ground were around amateur-level. It wouldn't take long to show her what to do, though; Jack had always been a fast learner.

* * *

Jack had just come down from her crouch when she found that Riddick was planning to bowl her over. The street rat had enough time to roll to the side _just_ as he breezed beyond her. Thinking quickly, she pounced upon his back, wrapping her legs around his broad stomach and slipping an arm around his neck. Jack fully intended to have him in a rear naked choke. Quickly, she pulled up with her arm.

Unfortunately, Riddick had tucked his chin and she found there was no room for her arm to slide up against his neck. The world suddenly went topsy-turvy and Riddick's considerable bulk was suddenly pressing the air out of her lungs. His hands went up to her arms to fight with her over the choke, which she didn't have in the first place. With his weight pinning her and his strength pulling at her arms, they struggled for a bit, but she ultimately lost her hold on him. With her grip broken, he quickly spun in her leg-hold and put himself in her guard.

She already knew he could do plenty of damage and incapacitate her from this position, which was why she had tried to avoid it. Jack had expressed that she wanted to improve her ground game. Somehow, she didn't think she could ab-lib fight her way out of this one. He had all the techniques. That didn't mean the brunette would lay down and surrender. She would just have to stop him... somehow.

"Alright," he said.

Then he just _stopped_. She paused and stared at him. Once again, she found herself in a compromising position. When they were fighting, it was just stance and maneuvers. When they were just idling like this, it felt like something _different_...

"We're gonna work backward on your ground game. For now, I'll teach you how to fight someone off when they're in or out of your guard, how to get someone off you from guard, how to take control from guard, and then take the fight to them while on the ground.

"Later, I'll show you how to keep them from getting on top of you and getting in your guard. Then I'll show you how to prevent yourself from being taken down in the first place."

Ignoring the heat she could feel in her face, she continued to listen to him and nodded, "But why work backward? Why not teach me how to get out of a takedown first?"

He shook his head, "Eventually you'll find yourself grounded by someone. More important you know how to work from there first. I don't want you focusing on being taken down as a breach of your defense. It's just a change in the fight. You can be just as strong on the ground as you can on your feet."

Jack considered that for a moment, "So keeping it a stand-up fight becomes my _choice_, not an imperative..."

"_'xactly_."

* * *

Jack spent next 45 minutes with her legs wrapped around Riddick... _trying_ to focus on the instructions he gave about fighting and protecting herself while grounded. She managed admirably, but every pause for instruction brought back that _difference_--and her blush. Honestly, she wondered what Riddick would do if her head burst into flames. At the end of their training session, she shot up off the ground as quickly as possible.

'_I need a shower... a _cold_ shower,_' she thought. She hoped the shower could also wash away her blush--unless it had somehow become _permanent_ by now.

* * *

MONDAY

Today had been... uneventful. She had been busy, of course. There was training and homework. Riddick taught her more about fighting from the ground in their evening spar. By next week, they would move on to ways to keep people out of her guard rather than fighting from it. She did a little research on a paper due Friday. Jack also decided to get her calculus homework out of the way.

Now it was nearing the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth hour... she'd stopped looking at the clock in an attempt to find sleep quicker. After almost an hour of tossing and turning, she sat up and glared about her room. This was _totally_ unproductive! How was it that, whenever she _wanted_ to sleep, she wound up pacing the ship? Jack always headed to the lower deck; Riddick always heard her when she wandered the upper deck and told her to go to bed.

Oddly, whenever Riddick told her to go to sleep, she'd go to her quarters and zonk. The street rat didn't quite understand it. Not that she considered that an option to aid her sleep; Jack didn't think it wise to wake Riddick and annoy him until he got up and told her to stop. So here she sat, considering grabbing a light sedative from the medical bay... Not that she ever wound up doing so. Unnatural sleep bothered her.

Resituating her pillows, she flopped back onto them with an exasperated sigh. The brunette had already tried meditation once tonight, but decided that it couldn't hurt to do more. More focus might kill her annoyance and somehow work to put her to sleep. Unfortunately, the more that Jack tried to focus, the less she felt she was accomplishing. Why couldn't she focus?

Finally, and well-frustrated, she abruptly sat up with a growl. Her room did not greet her eyes. Instead, she found her bed now resided on a mass of vines, dirt, and roots. All about her, trees blocked out all surroundings and their canopy blotted out most of the light, leaving only the feeblest of orangish light peeking through the twisted, winding branches in sparse streams. The light illuminated the dust and pollen floating through the air, but hardly illuminated her surroundings adequately. She knew this place. It then took her all of two seconds to ascertain that she was no longer conscious...

"..._Oh_. ... Well, shit," she commented.

Ironically, she wasn't sure if she preferred this to losing sleep. There was nothing to be done for it, though. The green-eyed girl decided she should see where this led; she wasn't content to simply idle here. Not when there could be something lurking in the darkness... There had been _last_ time.

Jack padded onward, idly noting that she wore her boots. She'd kicked them off before bed, she was sure. Shrugging this off, the girl emerged into the warm, yellow-orange light that warmed her body and soul. It was a short-lived sensation. The sight before her remained unchanged, but it still made a chill run up her spine. The gravestones. Miles of them. Jack shook her head.

It was then that a soft, buzzing and clicking caught her attention. Stiffening, her eyes slowly and reluctantly traveled to her left. There, upon a small slab of rock at the edge of the forest, laid one of those fucking monsters from M-344/G, 2. It slept curled, indolently and nonchalantly... perhaps unaware of her existence. Even so, she gasped and took several steps away from it.

'_It's the in the _light_! It can't _be_ in the light!_' Jack panicked.

If it wasn't safe in the light _or_ the dark, what was she to do? Movement from the forest gained her attention. It was the large, red-haired man. As usual, he seemed wholly unconcerned with the presence of the demonic creature that haunted the darkest corner of her mind. He regarded her passively with his bright, blue eyes for several moments before speaking.

"You will need to conquer your fears soon, child. There is a great darkness that approaches; it comes closer every day. If you cannot confront and defeat your fears, you will be unable to garner allies... and you will share the fate of those who came before you," he said, ending his typically vague statements with a wave of his hands toward the graves.

Jack tried to reign in her fear... It hadn't noticed her, yet. She wasn't comfortable standing near it and talking like this, but the man didn't look inclined to move away. Insanely, the last time she was in this place, he had insisted she wasn't in danger! Even if he knew _of_ those creatures, he obviously didn't know _enough_. Then again, much like Riddick, he looked as though he could handle himself against one or three of them. Maybe he didn't have to be afraid of them... but it was another story for her.

The terrified street rat spoke quietly--as though afraid to wake the sleeping hammerhead--but demandingly, "What happened here, anyway? And who the Hell are you--and don't avoid the question again! If I'm stuck in this dream, I'm not gonna spend it talking to some stranger."

"My name is Furya-"

Jack interjected, "And-"

"-and a great darkness befell this planet." Furya continued before she could interrupt, "There was much suffering and death. It was over so quickly... I was not to be gone long. My return was delayed and in that time, my people were driven to the brink of extinction."

"How come you weren't there?"

Ignoring her question, he went on with his explanation, "Some time--almost 30 years--ago, there was a _man_... a destroyer who brought with him that great darkness... ... ..."

Furya's lips continued to move, but his voice began to fade, taking on a muffled and garbled quality. Slowly, his voice rippled out of existence--along with the rest of the world! Jack rubbed her eyes, but her vision remained blurry. She could no longer hear his voice.

* * *

Green eyes drifted open with a few blinks. Taking in her regular surroundings, she frowned. That hadn't explained jack _shit_! The street rat muttered incoherently to herself and sat up. A glance to her clock...

_07:00_

Physically, she was well rested and ready to face the day. Mentally, Jack was confused.

"For fuck's sake, it was just a stupid dream!" the brunette exclaimed to no one, but wasn't sure if she believed herself or not.

* * *

WEDNESDAY

At a quarter 'til eighth hour, Sorin checked in with Dr. Soloviev on the treatment of his specimen. Apparently, everything was going well. He would continue to keep an eye on it, but the woman knew what she was doing when it came to the healthcare of the subject. Her almost intuitive and preemptive nature in dealing with problems allowed him to focus more on his experiments and tests than constantly monitoring everything about Specimen 74. It was the reason he had hired her. Not only that, but her generous donation would help him make history. In some ways, he supposed, this was just as much her work as his.

As the project's leader and the Director of Research, however, all work defaulted to his responsibility and he took ownership over every success and failure of their group. It had been his idea, of a certainty, but without the team he had gathered... none of this miraculous knowledge would have come about! The project did not weigh heavily on his mind as others did. The subject's mere existence and continued thriving was an excitement all its own!

At precisely 08:00, Sorin had an arm full as he swiped his card with his free hand and juggled the items in his hands to hold them comfortably. A com-pad, a small plate of bagels, and the coffee he'd brought from breakfast found their way to his desktop. Today he could hardly wait to get started. First things came first, though, and he reigned in his enthusiasm to type his report on the multi-screened com stations.

As he sat down at his large, mahogany desk, he glanced to the com-pad for the notes and his projected course of research. Sorin cracked his slowly aging knuckles. He wasn't the oldest of men, but time was claiming its own. So far, his aches were taken care of with medications and exercise. At some point, arthritis would probably set in. Today's medicine, however, would greatly lessen the amount of deterioration. It would allow his work to continue for many more years...

_Weekly Report_

_Week 316_

_ The subject caught a cold for its efforts in eluding the guards in the taiga climate. So far, its immune system is untested. This is a commonplace event in such conditions, but Specimen 74's sterile environment means it does not have the benefit of a strong immune system as most beings of its physical age. We monitored the subject closely, making sure it did not fall under any serious threat._

_ I postponed the final environmental test until the antivirals take effect. Our access to cutting edge medical science has permitted us the use of new, fast-acting antivirals and booster shots. By Day 4 of the treatment, the subject had recovered. This was a delightful surprise. I have begun slipping the subject small doses of venoms and started an immunization series to build the subject's resistance. No adverse effects are apparent._

_ -Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research_

And now it was time to see his specimen and give the directives for the week. Sorin couldn't help but smile. There was so much to do... and so much time to do it!

* * *

THURSDAY

It was a busy morning and would be an even busier afternoon. Jack was sitting at the ready in the lounge with her lunch. She was eating a hearty meal--steak, potato, and a salad--for the energy. Today they were to pick up the cargo from Vec-Corp. From what Riddick had told her earlier that morning, he would be paid fairly well for their haul alone--he'd contracted to transport what Jack was terming a 'metric fuckload' of Vectran. As Murdoch Connal, he took on 320 rolls of it. The large crates they would be using as containers, which stood about a foot or so higher than Big Evil, could hold 16 rolls each.

There would be quite a bit of moving and coordinating with Vec-Corp to get all the crates in the _Spirit of Langavat_. Not much was needed to go on this little, time-consuming errand. Neither she nor Rachel needed to do much to fit the image of cousins working for the family business. Riddick had pocketed his goggles and was now wearing some sort of stylish wrap-around sunglasses with heavy filter lenses. Things were a little brighter than his goggles, but he could manage--especially if they weren't docked in sunlight.

The Connals were to meet a manager at the Vec-Corp shipping dock at 13:00. They could be done before 04:00 if everything went smoothly. Just after lunch, at half an hour 'til the thirteenth hour, Riddick took Jack to the cockpit and had her pilot them there.

"Consider it urban maneuvers training," he had said with a sarcastic flourish.

* * *

Traffic was heavy in some parts, nonexistent in others. Where there were no other vehicles, heavy winds buffeted the ship and made it shudder just slightly while its stabilizers kept it from being tilted more than fifteen degrees. Still, by the time Jack navigated the _Spirit_ into the shipping docks of Vec-Corp, her grip on the controls was just this side of trying to choke the life from them. In time, she supposed she would get used to this, but atmospheric conditions were more difficult to deal with than frictionless zero-gravity.

Once the brunette was inside Vec-Corps' private property, it was smooth sailing to their shipping docks. Jack spun the ship 180-degrees, switched the screen to the aft view, and then slowly backed it up with careful bursts of the reverse thrusters. After she was lined up and close to the bays, she put down the ship's landing gear and slowly uncurled her nearly-cramping fingers.

"...Are we dead yet?" she asked.

Riddick chuckled.

The cargo ramp lowered and the 'Connals' stepped down to meet the floor manager of Vec-Corp. The man was slightly overweight, with thick glasses and a suit that Aislin knew was _trying_ to look sophisticatedly professional... but the ensemble ultimately failed. Their attention was immediately drawn to his bright, red tie. It dominated his wardrobe as much as his smug, self-important expression dominated his face.

He met with Murdoch and shook hands, then went on to point out the crates that had been set aside for them before they arrived. Morrigan wandered over to said crates and checked their numbers against her com-pad, which held the inventory list. The redhead did a quick visual count of the stacks of crates and nodded when she found the numbers matched up.

Aislin looked about. Those crates weren't going anywhere by manpower. They weren't even on wheeled pallets! Nearby, she saw one of the parked forklifts. There was no assistance crew, but she didn't like the idea of random people aboard the ship. Riddick was probably the only one qualified to work that machinery--and she was reluctant to get on such a machine without any clue how to work it.

"We aren't responsible for any damage done to the goods while you're loading or transporting. Any losses come out of your paychecks, so _watch_ how ya load," said the manager, making an obvious stare into Riddick's sunglasses. Apparently, he'd been informed of Mr. Connal's... disability, " I can make it easier on ya, if you want some of my crew to help ya load up."

To Murdoch's credit, he didn't so much as twitch a facial muscle. Morrigan, however, turned around and raised a brow. Help offered when not needed was usually no help at all. However, this offer was merely a thinly veiled insult. Typically, she tried not to associate with these types in school... but in this case, it was unavoidable. The redhead did the next best thing to avoidance: she decided to shut him up.

"Hey, Dad--are these figures correct?" she asked, suddenly tossing the com-pad at the back of Murdoch's head.

The bald man half turned and snatched the com-pad out of the air. Raising a brow at the short genius. Nevertheless, he glanced at the manifesto Morrigan had created and then back up to the floor manager. A single brow raised--for once it wasn't aimed at either Aislin or Morrigan.

"You said 20 crates," Murdoch said; whether it was statement or question, the manager could not tell.

The large man's eye weren't visible, but somehow it was obvious to the Vec-Corp employee that Murdoch's eyes were locked solely on him. He licked his lips nervously before responding, "Uh... yeah, um... yeah, 20 crates."

"I think we're good," the man in dark sunglasses decided.

Having said so, he tossed the com-pad over his shoulder, where Morrigan neatly caught the pad. Aislin, however, skeptically eyed the pallets full of crate stacks. The brunette put her hands on her hips.

"But we _could_ use one of your forklifts. You _do_ have a spare forklift we can use, right?" she asked and paused to pointedly eye the parked vehicle by the crates, "Unless you can spare the men to _manually_ lift your vectran... ..."

"...Sure. Sure, there's one over there that's not bein' used. Lemme get the keys," he acquiesced even as his face reddened and a light sweat budded on his forehead.

Murdoch remained as impassive as ever, "Much obliged."

* * *

The Connals worked for two and a half hours, forklifting and positioning the crates in their cargo bay so as not to unbalance the ship. They also had to keep in mind that there were still three more pick-ups in as many weeks, so the loads needed to remain organized with easy access to each supplier's cargo. Once they were done loading, they signed off on the cargo and headed out.

It wasn't really strenuous work--the hardest part had been lining up everything; all the physical labor was done by forklift. That was why, when they set down in the hangar, Rachel went to change out of the clothes she wasn't afraid to get a little dirty and into something nicer. Riddick himself didn't see the point, they'd hardly been anywhere grungy and none of them had worked up a sweat. Regardless, when Rachel was ready to go, he suggested they go out to eat. Jack declined.

"Come on, Jack... you've been holed up on the ship for four days. Don't you want to get out?" Rachel cajoled.

The green-eyed girl's reply was succinct, "No."

"So you're just going to sit on the ship, ignoring the planet about you?"

Jack's expression was still deadpan, "That was the general idea."

Rachel crossed her arms; she stood in the doorway of Jack's room with an annoyed expression upon her face. She understood that the other girl didn't want to have anything to do with Daedalus Station or Nemaeus-4... but it didn't to do to run away from your past all your life. Despite the redhead's perturbed presence, Jack refused to say more. Shiv in hand, Jack went about sharpening it. Once finished, she placed it back in the drawer and removed another.

Rachel huffed, "Whatever."

The genius turned and left Jack to herself. She wouldn't let the other girl's mood ruin her day. It was a shame--a frustrating shame--that she couldn't get Jack to loosen up a bit. They had gotten out of trouble, weren't they supposed to relax a little now? Just slide into their Connal identities and go about their business; keep their heads down. Whatever the street rat still feared and avoided, it had her firmly within its grip...

* * *

FRIDAY

Alexis had been busy most of the week with various correspondences between the Alliance, Helion Council, and the Helion Guard. The Helion Guard, to their credit, still had Detectives O'Connor and Ibn Rashid on the cases of Riddick as well as Rachel Rileigh. So far, they had managed to track down some information about Riddick's presence in the sordid parts of town... He had been spotted walking through the area with a young woman.

She knew that was likely when Jack had entered the Pit. One of the people suggested by the locals for more information was found dead. It was possible there was a correlation between the man's death, the mercs, and Riddick. She wouldn't rule it out; if the man had spilled about Riddick, it was quite possible Riddick killed the man himself. Alexis couldn't say for sure.

Furthermore, Detective O'Connor kept coming to her in an effort to learn more about her time in the service as well as get information on Riddick. It was all thinly veiled and she saw right through it. Why she had to tolerate his presence, Zimmy didn't know... but she couldn't very well tell him off; she was supposed to be keeping up the Alliance's relations with the Helion Guard for any information regarding Riddick. The man was curious--too curious; it could get him in trouble... or killed.

Thankfully, his partner was there to keep Gunnar on a short leash. Hasad was more level headed, more cautious. They complimented each other's natures well. His questions were more blatant and sometimes just as intrusive, but he didn't harp on her when she didn't answer. They meant well, but they just didn't have the clearance to get the answers they sought.

Alexis had tried to alleviate some of that pressure from them by telling them--without condescension--that the Alliance would keep them informed of all pertinent developments. It was really the best she could do. Hasad took it better than Gunnar. They didn't know about Rachel's messages, either. Alexis didn't think it was a good idea to share it with them; it would only frustrate them further.

That was another thing that bothered the Phys. Ed. teacher. There hadn't been any messages in several days. Something must have occurred and she was chomping at the bit to hear _some_ type of news. In this case, no news could very well be bad news. The last message from 'Chelsey' had been almost two weeks ago. Whatever had happened, Rachel was either incapable of replying... or possibly planning a reply. She didn't think that would take two weeks.

At 16:30, the com startled Zimmy out of her musings. She made her way across the den and sat down in front of the screen. Another vid-call--annoyingly close to the end of her workday, too. Most Alliance messages were text-only and, rarely, audio. The lack of Alliance logo also made her suspect it was a powerful group of an entirely _different_ kind. She accepted the call with her typical expression: a study of controlled focus and polite interest.

"Yes."

After a moment, the reply came across, "Hey, Zimmy."

It as Nicholas Saint August. She relaxed ever so slightly. Formality could take a bit of a backseat here.

"Nick... how are things at," she paused, trailing off awkwardly. It was hard to be so accepting of his affiliations; felt like somehow she hadn't done enough for him, couldn't keep him from being removed from her watchful, protective eyes. He was the only one left of her boys.

"Zolusland," he offered gently, "Pretty good; we're getting organized. It's a little hectic with all the reshuffling we're doing after Randal." He spat the name, the resentment for their former, self-imposed 'leader' was still there--for both of them. Nick moved on quickly enough, "Kinda like first-day boot camp all over again."

Alexis nodded along, familiar with the process, "Shakedown bad?"

"There's some early grumblers, but it'll even out," he said with a shrug.

"Always does."

"Yeah," he was quiet for a moment and she could see him pulling up his business-face, "I was wondering if you had some time to talk about bridges."

Zimmy canted her head to the side just slightly, considering it, "I think I could lay some foundation."

"I have some Zolus that stepped up to liaison with the Alliance. I'll let them tell you what they need--maybe you can help 'em find a good mirror. I chose them because they're the most capable and flexible in their divisions. They're all good negotiators, but they're fair. You want to talk to all of 'em now or one-on-one?"

"Let's go with one at a time. I'll get a better feel for 'em that way. I thought a bit about some of my own contacts--I think they'll get along just fine. What do you have?"

"Hits, Drugs, and Guns," Nicholas summed up quite easily; he knew Zimmy could appreciate the brevity. He would leave the details to the experts of their respective professions.

"Let's start with the drugs."

Nick nodded. Their long-standing drug lord was Jack Vorobyov. A keen businessman, he was savvy enough to keep all their dealings healthy through the years. When the Aquilas lost control of Butcher's supply, the Zolus took over full-time. The new warden at the Bay was a hard-ass--had to be to pick up the pieces left by Hoxie--but Jack played the man like a harp from Hell. The drug lord sweet-talked him until Warden Michaels thought _he_ was ripping the _Zolus_ off.

"Don't give him to someone careless, Zimmy--he'll just railroad 'em," cautioned the acting head of the Zolus. Nick stood up and went to the door, calling the man in, "Vorobyov. You're up."

From her com screen, Zimmy scrutinized the person she saw enter a door behind the chair. The man that entered looked average, well-kempt. He inclined his head toward Nick and sat down in the recently vacated chair. The drug lord seemed to lounge there, completely at ease; new faces, new places... it was unlikely things like that phased him. Nothing stood out about him, but his easygoing nature only reinforced her wariness in the face of Nicholas' warning.

"Hello," said the man cordially; he had a hint of Russian accent, "I am Jack Vorobyov. I am hoping we can help each other, yes? A mutually beneficial agreement to suit both our needs. And what is it you need, eh, Miss...?"

"Alexis Zimmerman. We're looking to get Rush off the market as soon as possible. We're prepared to make monetary exchanges."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Zimmerman. Yes, the Rush. It is shit, you know--piled high and deep. I hope the Alliance carries a big shovel; I am looking to move all of it," he waved his arms with a grin, "Everything must go; all sales are final and absolutely no refunds! I am sure you understand, yes?"

Alexis didn't think for a minute it would really be so simple, but that wasn't the point of her talk with him. He seemed genuine--too genuine to be altruistic. Vorobyov's expressive face, including those twinkling, mischievous eyes, were carefully cultivated to lure her into a sense of false security. What was that one ancient saying? Ah, yes: '_It is a profitable thing, if one is wise, to seem foolish_.' From the sound of it, Vorobyov made a _very_ good profit.

"Just how much are we talking about?"

"We have the--what is--eh, _large_ crates. Packed to the brim. Before production stopped, we were nearing 22 tons. I would have to check inventory to get exact figures. Fills almost the whole damn warehouse! Bad for business, you know; there's just--_no_ room for expansion! A surplus like this is never good. You know someone who can help me move this, yes? I am sure we can make some _interesting_ numbers."

Alexis was boggled by the sheer amount of Rush the man had sitting about, but didn't let her shock show outwardly. This was a major job and she would have to get one of the top Alliance DEA agents on it; nothing short of their best would do on this case. Zimmy smiled easily at the man, even though she didn't feel quite so friendly about it. No matter how amiable and charming the man seemed, he was a drug lord the likes of which she would likely never see again. Normally, this was the type of man her boys had targeted before the Wailing Wars. She never dreamed she would be sitting down for a semi-formal chat with one.

The woman opened a small drawer and pulled out a group of folders that she had prepared for this exact purpose. A few moments of flipping through some dossiers later, she found the one she wanted. Quickly scan over the contents, she verified that it was the man she wanted.

"I know a man in the DEA who would love to sink his teeth into a deal like that. His name's Chief William Sherwood," Zimmy said as she typed, "You can reach him there--that's his work com. Give me three days to notify him and get him up to speed."

"Of course, of course! It is just good business for everyone to be on the same page, eh? I shall leave a message for Mr. Sherwood on Monday. I believe that is all there is left to discuss and I do not wish to take up more of your time then necessary. Have a good day, Ms. Zimmerman."

Zimmy nodded and Vorobyov smoothly vacated the chair. That went easier than she expected. It was likely all the headaches would develop on Sherwood's end. That, thankfully, wasn't going to be her problem--she had her own headaches, after all. Rachel, Riddick, and Jack were still out and about wherever, completely out of her reach with no recent communications... Alexis doubted her worries would subside until she had everyone on the same page.

From somewhere by the wall behind the chair, she saw Nicholas stir and turn toward the doorway. He motioned and another man in black military fatigues entered. This one was tall--not quite lanky, but he had a good reach. His straight, dark brown hair was tucked behind his ears and rested at chin-length. What really got her, however, was his face. The face told her everything she needed to know.

A round face with a slightly pointed chin and a thin nose gave him an almost bird-like appearance. The way his narrow eyes twitched across the com screen to scrutinize her features--much as she was doing to him--did nothing to dispel that illusion. This man was alert; moreover, he was completely focused. He sat down in front of the com and Zimmy suddenly realized that he was _familiar_, if only through case files and images taken through telescopic capture.

"..." Then the name finally came to her. Her eyes widened, "Jackal! You asshole, you nearly started a colony war on the PG-151 settlement!"

Jackal blinked and deadpanned, "That hit was on open channels, lady. I'm just the guy that got there first."

Zimmy's eye ticced almost discretely--the only physical sign of her outrage, "If you had waited, we would have flushed that rat-bastard _and_ made it look like an accident!"

"If I'd waited," he said with a shrug and a steady stare, "I wouldn't have been _paid_."

Zimmy glowered at him for several seconds. A civil war on a new colony before any form of dependable government could be set up would have been disastrous. Jackal didn't care about the repercussions because they didn't directly affect him. While she could appreciate the way he distanced himself from his jobs, the hitman's callous nature regarding others wasn't helping anyone.

"Clean shot, though, Zimmy," Nick chimed in, breaking the glaring contest, "And we managed to keep everyone calm _anyway_..."

Zimmy took a slow breath and considered that, "...I'll give him that."

Once more, the Lieutenant General delved into her dossiers. This time, she picked out her successor. When she had 'retired' to a less strenuous life, Rafe "Rampage" Taylor had taken her place--training and commanding the Spec Ops. They kept in contact, usually once a month or every other month. However, business was rarely discussed. He would probably be shocked to hear from her twice in one month--and even more so when she told him why!

"Alright, Jackal. I got a man with a _very_ long list--if you and your crew can act within the constraints of the mission contracts..."

"I'm pretty sure I can color inside the lines," Jackal responded with a smirk.

"Good to hear," she said, sending him the contact information, "Give Lieutenant General Taylor a call when you're set, Jackal. As I said, the list is very long."

It had been _her_ list for a while--it would be good to see a few names crossed off it. Jackal was Rafe's problem, now. She hoped that Rampage could handle Jackal; she had a feeling the assassin would be a major wildcard. Once he had the information, Jackal evacuated the seat without another word. She suspected he wasn't a person to be controlled. Professionals like Jackal were given an explanation of the mission and set loose on the field to work their magic. It was very... _mercenary_.

Alexis glanced to where Nick had posted himself as Jackal vacated the room. Just who could he throw at her, now? They had taken care of the hits and drugs. All that remained was setting up the deals to buy the weapons Randal's connections with the Sons of Freedom provided the Zolus. It couldn't be worse--she quickly corrected herself--_hoped_ it wouldn't be worse than Jackal.

Nicholas talked with someone outside and a slight disagreement seemed to break out and quickly subside. Then Nick leaned back in and took up his position by the door. That was when the girl walked in. Zimmy blinked.

"I was _so_ _not_ late; I just left to get a drink. Besides, I was back before Jackal was done," the girl said as she plopped into the chair.

The girl appeared to be from a line of Arabic descent and in her mid-twenties. She had long black hair and vibrant, playful, chocolate eyes. Her clothes said little about her; a plain, dark brown tank under a forest green jacket and black pants. Instead of the standard, print-form 'Z' the Zolus wore on the right side of their necks, her tattoo was a very stylized, calligraphic 'Z' with spirals at the ends that coiled atop and below the letter. The spirals and tips of the tattoo were a cerulean blue and a vertical gradient turned the body into amethyst. The entire design was surrounded with white sparkles. It was very eye-catching on her naturally tan skin.

The young woman carried a large drink with her, which was probably the cause of the short dispute. She walked with confidence and the gleam in her eyes said that she could be just as malicious as sweet. The girl had looks and brains--and she knew it.

"So," she said simply, setting her right elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm, "I'm Zaira Kassab. I'm in charge of things that go boom."

"Alexis Zimmerman; nice to meet you," Zimmy asked casually and cordially, "And just what things that 'go boom' do you have?"

"The stuff we're giving up? Honestly, it's crap," Zaira said dismissively. Nevertheless, she pulled out a miniature data-pad from her pocket; it was about the size of her hand and she navigated it with a few quick taps of her thumb, "Hm, a bunch of knock-off assault rifles that are older than me, some even _older_ handguns with slightly better sighting, and some down-right _ancient_ RPGs. Not one of them has targeting or displays--they're all pre-HUD manufacturing.

"They come with lots of ammunition--all of which is more than less than useless. The rounds can't be used in newer models. Worse are the RPG rounds. They're the front-loading, single-action types! Who the Hell uses those anymore? Anyway..."

Zaira glanced again at her data-pad and shrugged, "That's it for typical firearms, but we also have some old hand-grenades. That stuff makes me jittery. I mean, they don't come with any of those new safety-features, y'know? No DNA-encoding, no proximity bio-sensors, nothing. They could be duds or they could blow at the next _bump_--I want 'em outta my stockpile before they ruin the _useful_ stuff."

"The Sons had some pretty antiquated equipment. It will go a long way to get that stuff out of the way," Zimmy acknowledged, warming up to the girl's amiable nature.

"So who do I get?" Zaira asked somewhat eagerly as she saw Zimmy flipping through some folders.

"I think," Alexis muttered, more to herself than to the girl, "Araya. Colonel Diego Araya is our Ordnance Corps officer. He can take anything you need to dump; would probably find it a refreshing break from his inventory checks."

Zaira waved her hands expressively, "_No_ pencil-pushers! He better know his stuff."

"Oh, he knows his stuff," the Lieutenant General said with a small smile, "You should get on well."

The young Zolus raised a brow, once more resting her chin on her hand, "Is he cute?"

From behind her, Nicholas cut in, "No. He's not." Then Nick had approached the com station and leaned over in front of Zaira. His face nearly filled Zimmy's screen. "He's _not_, right?"

"_Un_-cle _Nick_!" Zaira exclaimed in a scandalized and mortified voice. Zimmy watched as she pushed him out of the way of the com with both hands, "_My_ conversation!"

Nicholas gave Zaira her space, straightening and staring some kind of message at her. The girl had her arms crossed and was glaring at him. Alexis barely held back a chuckle; as it was, she had to put a hand over her mouth to cover the grin stretching across her face. Zaira continued to give him the evil eye until he returned to his position by the wall. Only after it was clear that he was done interfering did she turn back to the com.

"So... this Araya guy," she continued, sipping at her drink with deceptive casualness.

Zimmy nodded, "He'll be waiting for a call from you anytime next week. You can work out the particulars with him."

"Cool," Zaira said with a nod. She copied the information that Alexis sent to her data-pad and pocketed the device. The girl gave a wave in parting, "Nice doing business with ya."

On the way out, Zaira gave Nicholas another _look_ and then proceeded out the door. She couldn't help but smirk at the girl's sparky attitude. When Nick sat down, trying to appear as though a girl a decade his junior didn't have him wrapped around her little finger, Zimmy couldn't help but chuckle.

"Seems like you're recruiting young, these days," she said in tacit inquiry.

"Amir Kassab's daughter," he grunted in amusement, "He's one of the old Zolus commanders. His girlfriend died giving birth to Zaira; he's a good father--raised her not to take shit from anyone. Between Amir's friends, the other commanders, and himself, she's got everything she could ever need. When she turned 18, Amir gave her the choice of becoming a Zolus."

Alexis frowned, "The Zolus have a hazing ritual to-"

"The rite of passage, yeah. I know. We all went through it, Zimmy. Just because she's Amir's daughter doesn't make her exempt. You gotta score blood in a fight against one of the commanders. Amir wasn't considered because he might have been partial."

"So who-"

"Jackal," Nicholas preempted her.

Zimmy leaned forward, her eyes burning in anger. What kind of father sends his little girl against an assassin? She couldn't believe how callous the Zolus could be. She had tried to remain level-headed about Nick's involvement with them, but there had to be a line. The girl was lucky to be alive!

"This Amir sent his daughter to fight _Jackal_? Is he insane?"

Nicholas took a moment to let her cool down before he began in a tone that emphasized the obvious, "Zimmy, she's a Zolus--she passed. Earned herself a few busted ribs, but she broke Jackal's jaw for her troubles. ...She might not look it, Zimmy, but Zaira's a bruiser when she needs to be. She prefers her guns, though. That girl knows more about my old sniper rifle than _I_ do."

Zimmy absorbed that information. She doubted the idea was to kill or maim possible new recruits. It would be harsh and the element of danger was there, but she supposed they wouldn't get anywhere if they pitted their best against the applicants in matches to the death. The fact that Zaira managed to break Jackal's jaw said something for her; however the girl managed that feat, it probably earned Jackal's respect pretty fast. ...Hell, it impressed Zimmy, too.

Maybe she was just too sensitive about young women after being the girls' gym teacher for so long. If she looked at it objectively, as she'd been trained to do so long ago by _her_ Spec Ops C.O., she would realize that it was just a form of ensuring that those who joined were up to snuff. Better to take a beating and go home that make it into the forces and die.

"She looks like she's doing well," Alexis allowed.

Nicholas snorted, "Like she said, she's in charge of things that go boom."

There was a short lull in the conversation as the Lieutenant General put aside her worries. The girl would be looked after. If Nick's protective nature was anything to go by, she had people that would dive into the maw of Hell to keep her safe. That was enough for Alexis to feel reassured.

They had one more piece of business to discuss before the call was over, however. Zimmy thought it best to put it out there. She didn't know how Nick would react, but she felt he deserved at least a heads up. If he disagreed... well, she'd hate to go behind his back--if that was even possible, considering that the Zolus were becoming more organized.

"Nick... I'm still looking for that girl, Rachel. We know she's with Riddick. Thanks to you, we also know that Riddick was last seen on Daedalus. I have some mercs working for me; they're on a non-violent search. I want them to find Rachel and see if they can bring her back.

"Knowing Riddick's track record with mercs, I'm hoping this won't turn into a suicide mission if I keep things nice and peaceful. None of that matters unless we can _find_ Riddick, though. So... you mind if I send 'em your way to sniff around for clues?"

Nicholas considered it quietly for several moments. She could see the gears turning in his head.

"I'll have some Zolus meet them and escort them around. I don't want them heavily armed or unsupervised. Mercs can get..."

Zimmy nodded as he trailed off. She knew exactly how they could get.

* * *

SUNDAY

Around the nineteenth hour, Rachel arrived in the laundry room with a load of her clothes. The redhead had several of her colored shirts and the blue pants. When they arrived on Nemaeus, she decided to wear some of her brighter colored clothes. Having left Daedalus, there was no need to wear dreary colors to make oneself less noticeable. This week she had run across the rainbow of her wardrobe, which included red, green, blue, and purple. It felt good to put on something that wasn't dulled and greyed out.

Today, she felt like knowing something special. She had Minos and Rhad navigate her to the Department of Defense. She wanted to peak into their highly classified files and see if there was anything that might interest her. The two artificial intelligences were well-versed enough to crack into the DoD without raising alarms. Even so, she wanted to get back to the com in the lounge as soon as possible.

In her haste, Rachel threw in her clothes, closed the lid to the washer, and pressed the color-safe detergent option on the console screen. It beeped once to acknowledge her choice. The genius left before pressing the start button, her eagerness sweeping the last and most obvious step from her mind. Returning up the steps, she found that Minos and Rhadamanthus were waiting for her with '_Clearance Gold_' access. She grinned and plopped down.

There was a lot of ugly stuff from the Alliance--she knew they weren't as altruistic and clean as they claimed to be. They sanctioned assassinations and made deals they professed not to make. Reading those reports generally left a bitter taste in her mouth. This time, she was looking for something a little less underhanded, but just as top-secret. Rachel liked knowing secrets.

Before she knew it, the hacker lost herself seeking out some of the less 'dirty' missions over the years. Finally, she fetched up against something that caught her interest. Apparently, there was an entire campaign during the Wailing Wars that was strictly hush-hush. She had heard a lot about the Wars when she was younger, up until about her tenth birthday. ...Her father was usually the one to tell her things about it. Shaking away the depressing thoughts, she focused on the campaign's reports.

* * *

Almost an hour later, Riddick carried a sack of clothes to the lower deck, passing behind the mouse on the way there. The short girl was so focused on whatever was on the com that she didn't even notice him come in. Shaking his head, he went to the laundry room. Nothing was running; he assumed that Rachel had already finished her load of laundry and dumped his mostly black clothes into the washer.

After tapping the display for color-safe detergent option, he hit the start-wash button. The machine acknowledged with a beep and began the double-wash cycle--one for each detergent injection. The combo washer-dryer installed in the laundry room auto-loaded clothes into the dryer at the end of the last cycle. Supposedly, it was an 'intelligent' machine. Riddick left, confident that it would perform its task as it usually did.

He returned to the lounge, intending to grab a light, after-dinner snack from the kitchen. On the way across the lounge, he noticed the headings of the long list of text. He frowned; that was a military report. He'd gone through enough of those to know one when he saw it. The escaped convict had to ask.

"What're you lookin' at?"

Rachel gave a nonchalant shrug and scrolled down some more, "DoD stuff."

"I thought you said you were mostly done with that bank business."

"I am. I'm just browsing some classifieds. There's some interesting stuff in here," Rachel replied and waved to the screen, "Did you know there was a Special Operations Force program during the Wailing Wars that relied heavily on a large mercenary accompaniment?"

Riddick was quiet for a moment, but answered before his silence grabbed the girl's attention, "...Yeah."

"They aborted the mission at its last phase, for some reason. They just... decided to focus elsewhere. Then the Wailing Wars ended, but it doesn't say why it was aborted!" The redhead gave a frustrated sigh. "I've been looking through all the files under '_Mercenary Accompaniments_' to figure it out, but-"

Big Evil interrupted, "Try looking under '_Breach of Security_.'"

Rachel blinked up at him dumbly. Finally, she managed to comment, "I don't see why it would be there-" She then noticed that he was no longer in the room, but had moved into the kitchen. The girl shrugged again and said to herself, "-but it's worth a look."

* * *

Jack had been in a sour mood for most of the day. Ever since Rachel had tried to get her to go to lunch with her today, she had been holing herself up in her room to avoid the mousy redhead. Although Rachel had dropped it after ten minutes of persuasion--with Jack remaining adamant--the damage to her mood had been done. She didn't want to _be_ here. Didn't they get that? Still, they were stuck here for a whole fucking _month_! As far as the street rat was concerned, she couldn't get off this sand-blasted planet soon enough.

At 20:30, Jack stalked out of her room with her hamper and down to the laundry room. A load had just finished; it should be going to the dryer, then. Jack opened the washer and all but hurled her whites inside. Her finger jammed the bleach-clean button and the start button in staccato succession. She didn't even take the time to look at the display screen that read there was still a cycle remaining for the current load.

* * *

The machine, ever obedient, injected the bleach into its next run. The washer was nothing if not thorough; Rachel's clothes of myriad colors, the dark colors of Riddick's tanks and pants began to bleed their precious pigments. Jack's whites became the innocent casualties of a series of blundered launderings.

An hour after Jack's fateful addition, she returned to the laundry room. There were many more clothes in the dryer than she felt there should be. She made no move to remove them.

'_It's not my problem if they don't get their own laundry and it wrinkles to Hell,_' she thought bitterly.

It was only when she began to pull out her whites from the mass that she realized that their problems were, indeed, her problem. Jack held up one of her once-white tee-shirts. It now featured a greyish tint and splotches of pastel green, floral lavender, powder blue, and carnation pink. Of course, the brunette had but one response to this.

"What. The. _Fuck_?"

At her exclamation, Rachel padded down the stairwell and went to check on Jack. She found the girl fuming with outstretched arms holding very _un_-white shirt. Upon sighting the redhead, the green-eyed girl shook the shirt for emphasis.

"My clothes are fucking ruined! ...And _pink_!"

Rachel blinked, unsure of what to say, "I... forgot about my laundry. I was caught up reading... and you had the bleach setting on--that probably did it. Uhm, I'm sorry." There was really nothing the genius could do about it, now. Instead, she pointed out the obvious, hoping it would lessen the other girl's ire, "Riddick's clothes were in there, too..."

"It doesn't _matter_ for _him_; he usually wears black, anyway!" Jack railed while flailing the shirt.

Riddick came down at the commotion Jack made. He found her holding a shirt and staring at it. He looked from her to the shirt. Their eyes met for several moments before she replied.

Jack could feel her face heating up. She knew he probably didn't get why she was upset--he couldn't see the stains due to his shined eyes. It was probably a good thing she couldn't see her blushing, either, considering recent events. Even so, Jack was too fed up with everything going wrong this week. She practically growled.

"_What_."

Unimpressed with her display, Riddick shrugged, "...You gonna fold that?"

The large, bald man found himself with a face full of shirt and heard Jack storm out of the room, down the hall, and up the steps. Rachel was quick to snatch the shirt off his face and follow after the enraged street rat. Riddick just watched them leave and shook his head.

'_Must be a_ girl mood_..._' he thought depreciatingly.

* * *

"It's not that bad, Jack," Rachel said as she tried to keep up with the pissed-off girl in front of her. She held up the shirt as they traversed the lounge to the hallway, "Actually... actually, it kinda looks nice. Are you sure you don't want it?"

The door to the brunette's room tore across its tracks and slammed shut.

The redhead stared at the door for a moment, then glanced back to the shirt. Honestly, it wasn't ugly--even if it had once been white. The splotches didn't even vaguely form a pattern of any sort, but it was nice in an abstract sort of way.

"...Well, if you're not gonna wear it, I will."

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

Well... this took a while. It wasn't four months, but it was two. I don't like going through the awkward process of plot-building filler like this, honestly. I _love_ the scenes. I hate having to write them. Does that make sense? Anyway! Onto my thoughts on this chapter!

I love the fight scene because it shows Jack improving and the first, solid win she's ever had in all their spars... short-lived as it might have been. I also liked the ending of it. Yes, Jack is going to be needing plenty of cold showers in the future. Heh.

Furya finally identifies himself! Yes, I know you all probably knew this was coming, but Jack doesn't get these Dream Time scenes very often. Too bad Jack won't be getting the low-down on what the Hell is going on for quite a while. We're nowhere near the Necromonger Arc. Yay for being vague, Furya!

Poor Specimen 74. But don't worry... with so many doctors watching over the project, there's no way Specimen 74 is going down to the mere common cold. There's plenty more from Sorin... I wanted to delve into him a little more, give him some personality and flesh him out as a person. You'll get a better idea of his personality through his reports as a bonus to seeing what's up with the experiment.

I liked giving Riddick something else to wear besides his goggles. I don't think he could go unnoticed for a very long time with such distinctive accessories. Beyond that, Jack's getting more familiar with the ship and that's a step toward her piloting license! However, this same scene also shows Jack's reluctance to leave the ship unless it is absolutely necessary. As always, a storm is brewing!

Ah! Back with Zimmy and Nicholas! I've been waiting to get to this. I've introduced some tertiary characters. They're not really important to the overall plot, but I don't like to put in placeholders-even my one-shot characters have back-stories. I like Zaira; she's kickass. Heh. You might see more from these three later... but probably not in any lengthy detail. Finally, the deals are set in motion and things are looking up for the Zolus!

Rachel doesn't follow Alliance rules. Heh. Really, asking a hacker to adhere to such restrictive and useless rules? Information wants to be free! ...Curious little mouse, isn't she? And oh, the topics she picks. It seems that Riddick just can't get away from the Wailing Wars.

...Aaand laundry! Hurrah for laundry mishaps! I loved this scene to bits. Nobody wins in these situations--'cept maybe Rachel. Heh. But that's how the cookie crumbles. Life happens... even if you hole yourself up on a ship, secluding yourself into your room, nestled safely away from the planet at large... You can't escape it just because you don't want to acknowledge it. Is this too deep for a laundry mishap? We'll see.

And that's the breakdown of the chapter! The plot isn't really slowing down, there just isn't that much violence occurring. This is all building up to something, I promise! I have the plot notes for the next four or five weeks... Some weeks don't have much in them, other weeks are packed full of events. It may take a while, but the Nemaeus Arc is fairly important to the character development.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I apologize for the delays and writer's block. I can only hope that, as I move into the parts of the story that interest me a great deal more than parts like this, that you will receive chapters faster. It seems that my speed in writing is directly proportional to just how much I enjoy the scene, which means I usually have it perfectly pictured in my mind. If it isn't very detailed, it takes me longer to put in those details.

(By the way, if you're wondering, FUBAR means "Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.")

Finally, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Thug, Beth, and Vince for all their help! Thanks guys!

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	21. 21: Feeling Emotive

21

"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 21: Feeling Emotive_

MONDAY

Lynne was working studiously at her Advanced Com Technologies homework when she heard the front door open around fourteenth hour. Nobody was supposed to be here until seventeenth hour. School had been a half day because of a meeting between the Helion Guard and the faculty. Zimmy wasn't pleased that her class time was being gouged, which she had been heard grumbling about from time to time every time the Helion Guard was known to be dropping by. That meant that she had time to go home, get her homework done, and possibly start dinner.

"Lynne, we're home," her mother, Adela, called into the house.

Adela was a tall woman with long, black hair and blue eyes. She moved into the house gracefully, though she looked a little tired. As the woman carried in a case from the hover-car it was clear that Adela was quite grateful just to be home and able to relax.

Lynne came down the steps with a bit of haste, a look of slight surprise on her face.

"Hey--I thought you weren't coming back for another three hours? I was going to have dinner ready... I haven't even started."

"No need to worry about that," Aodh, her father, responded lightly with a wave of his free hand, "We'll go out for a nice dinner. When we stopped by the Council, they gave us the day to rest since the work-day was almost over. We'll have to go see them in the morning. I'm sure there was time to give it today, but they declined. I got the feeling they were busy with other matters."

Aodh Fortuna was shorter than Adela by a few inches and had a head of bright orange hair. It curled about in a thick mass. The man's eyes were a stormy grey, but held a playful glint to them. Lynne's dark red hair was straighter than her father's, for which she was grateful; it made styling it easy.

Both Aodh and Adela were dressed lightly; it was best for the heat of Helion. Lynne's mother wore a thin, mesh, aqua shawl with chrysocolla beads over a navy blue summer dress. She wore sandals with a slight heel to them. Lynne's father wore a white, short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts. His shoes were white loafers that breathed well. Honestly, it looked like they'd come back from vacation rather than an ecological survey.

"They probably are," Lynne admitted, "There is a lot going on. Remember when I told you about the dance, when Audrey attended?"

"Yes?" her mother asked, interested in what that had to do with the Council.

"The Monday after prom, mercenaries came into the school and started a shoot-out-"

Adela, her eyes wide, interrupted Lynne, "They _what_?"

"Yes... some mercenaries-"

"Are you alright?" Aodh broke in this time.

Slightly perturbed, Lynne nodded, "I'm fine, but-"

"You're sure?" he asked, wanting to make sure his daughter was okay and not humoring him, "Was anyone else hurt? Why would mercenaries start a fire-fight at your _school_?"

"..."

Lynne crossed her arms and stared at her parents while she waited for them to realize she was _trying_ to tell them what happened, but couldn't so long as they continued to interrupt her. When they finally realized she wouldn't continue until she was allowed to start a sentence and finish it, they calmed themselves. It did no good to let their worry overrun their logic. Obviously, Lynne was standing right in front of them--wasn't dead or hospitalized.

"Mercenaries came to the school because it turns out that Mr. Phoebus, the man teaching Audrey self-defense, was actually Richard B. Riddick."

Adela looked aghast, "The _serial killer_?"

"I doubt he's actually a serial killer..."

In response to her mutter, her father returned with a gentle admonishing, "Some criminals are very good at masking their true natures, Lynne."

"But he wasn't really... _hiding_. He did lie about his name; with the way he acted, though, I don't think he's likely to start a body count for no reason," she reasoned, then explained, "He treated Audrey well during gym class, even though her training was very intense. Riddick talked to Zimmy often, too. He didn't say much at the dance, but he wasn't _raging about_. From what some people said about him, you would almost expect him to be tearing people limb from limb and gnawing on their bodies like some deranged cannibal."

Lynne snorted, "I'm sure he's killed some people--probably a lot of mercenaries. I don't know enough about his victims to say he's really just some psycho-killer."

Her parents looked to be considering that notion. Her mother was the first to accept the validity of her idea, "I see... so the mercenaries came after him while he was at the school."

The redhead nodded.

The dark-haired woman gained a contemplative look, "What about Audrey? You said she was rather--_close_ with him."

"Uhm," Lynne noised, thinking hard about it, "Everyone thought they were an item--or wanted to be. I don't think there was anything going on, personally... but Audrey _was_ very protective of him. She left with him--and Rachel went with them, I believe."

Her father shifted uncomfortably at that news and pushed some orange curls out of his vision. They fell back soon enough, but he paid them no mind. His wife was the first to comment on their mutual feelings about the matter.

"That might not be good."

Lynne acquiesced, "Perhaps not. I get the feeling he's treating them well, but that doesn't change the fact that they're going to be actively hunted by more mercenaries. I hope that they can stay safe."

Aodh grunted slightly, "For all their sakes, it would be best if they stayed low for the time being. If he's intelligent, he's hiding."

"Oh, he's very intelligent," his daughter said dryly, "I understood that much almost immediately."

Her father nodded approvingly.

"Classes recently resumed, but there's always someone from the Helion Guard buzzing about. Two detectives have been talking with Mrs. Zimmerman a lot," Lynne recounted, "I think the interruptions during class are starting to annoy her."

"So everyone else is alright?" Aodh inquired.

"Mhm. One of the mercenaries grabbed Audrey by the hair and was threatening her... and she almost killed him, but Riddick stopped her; he killed the man himself. There's this really faint bloodstain on the ground outside the gym..."

The girl paused to reflect on this, but quickly came to the conclusion that if Riddick hadn't killed the man, someone--probably Zimmy--might have for threatening her students. Then again, Mrs. Zimmerman might have just restrained the man until the Helion Guard showed up. Then it would have gone to court. She understood that there was no way to justify what the mercenary had done in the gym. If the man hadn't been killed there, he would probably have been sent to a prison. A merc wouldn't last a week surrounded by inmates... It seemed that no matter the course events had taken, that mercenary was slotted for death.

There were other variables, of course, but none so likely--especially considering Riddick's presence and the mercenary's actions.

"I suppose it is good that he stopped her," said her father. He then paused, quietly contemplating, "You say she went with him?"

"Yes--pretty much forced him to take her with him. I'm not sure what to think about Riddick or Audrey. The mercenaries, however, threatened the lives of the students. The man that held Audrey hostage pointed his gun at us when Audrey wouldn't put handcuffs on."

Adela frowned. She would be lodging a complaint against the guild over this. She was quite sure several other council members would do the same; several of their children attended Lucian's Academy. Well, she amended, she would if Riddick had left any of the mercenaries alive for her complaints.

"What was your impression of this Riddick?"

Lynne paused--never one to give an honest question a thoughtless answer. After several moments of gathering her thoughts and putting together what little she knew of the quiet man, the girl made up her mind. It wasn't as informed an opinion as she wanted and there was little she could glean from other people's interactions. All the rumors were taken with a grain of salt, if not entirely discarded. She didn't have much information to work with.

"He's a very prominent man; seems to stand out wherever he goes... From what I saw, he was very level-headed and observant. By the look of him, stubborn, too. I don't think he does anything he doesn't want to."

* * *

Jack was in a bad mood. Not only did she have to get more clothes, but Rachel and Riddick had decided to come with her. It wasn't like she couldn't do this on her own! Rachel explained that it was the first time they'd gone out together as a 'family unit' for something else other than a job of some sort. The brunette didn't care. All she wanted was to get some underwear, a few shirts, and then get _gone_.

Leaving the ship like this, putting herself out here in the open, it made her feel vulnerable and jittery. She could _see_ her past all around her--see it creeping up behind her and knew there was nothing she could do about it. If there was one thing that unnerved Jack, it was inescapable, unavoidable threats. Nemaeus 4 was as much a monstrous trap as Daedalus... just in different ways.

Nevertheless, here they were at a shopping complex. Rachel was energetic for some reason Jack didn't understand. As they neared the clothing department, Riddick excused himself and wandered off to the hardware aisles. The green-eyed girl didn't blame him. Still, she had things she needed. Jack could always go to join him when she was finished here.

The former pickpocket navigated through the aisles and found her sizes. She knew what she was looking for and approximately where to get it. This should be simple: go into the store, find your items, get out. Unfortunately, Rachel took it upon herself to explain that this was the entirely wrong way to go about shopping. The redhead then proceeded to elucidate her on the _proper_ method of shopping.

It included 'browsing.' Jack was coming to despise 'browsing.'

"Why are we just _meandering_ through all this shit? I already have what I need."

"I told you, you're not shopping if you just get what's _sufficient_," Rachel reminded.

Jack muttered, "And here I thought I was being _efficient_."

"That's why I'm here," the mouse said with a small smile, then gestured to an ensemble, "Look at this."

The taller girl was unimpressed with what she saw. Less than unimpressed, she was put off... almost disgusted by the piece. Did it even qualify as clothing if it didn't _cover_ anything? Jack frowned. Rachel had somehow conned her, discreetly migrating them slowly from sports bras and utilitarian underwear to lacy underwear... and from lacy underwear to lingerie. The brunette was distinctly uncomfortable in this aisle.

"Why are we even looking at this? It doesn't look too comfortable..."

Rachel smirked, "This stuff isn't for your comfort, Jack. You wear it because you won't be wearing it for long."

Jack's face slowly reddened.

"Oh my God, Jack--look at this!" Rachel exclaimed as she pulled a number of its rack.

Jack eyed it warily. It was a green negligee; solid in color, unlike the many transparent items surrounding it. The straps were little more than slivers of myrtle-toned fabric. The body of it was quite slender and looked to be satin of a hunter green shade. She could tell it would cling to her curves. The neckline didn't plunge so much as _dip pleasantly_; it showed ample cleavage, but not a scandalous amount. The bottom of it stopped above mid-thigh, which showed off plenty of leg. She knew that was the point--to entice, but the very _thought_ of wearing such a thing made her feel exposed. The neck and hem of the negligee were trimmed with thin, black lace in a vaguely vine-floral pattern; not enough to make it frilly, but enough to draw attention to it.

"It compliments your eyes... You'd _so_ drive him crazy with this."

That made the street rat frown and she pointed out the problem with the negligee, "Rachel, he can't see color, only brightness."

The mouse gave a sigh and a roll of her eyes, "It's not about what he can't see, it's about what you're not hiding. Y'know... _less_ is _more_..."

Jack fought down another blush, but wasn't quite successful.

'_What would Riddick do if he saw me in this?_' she wondered as her face began to burn from the scorching scenario running through her mind.

Seeing the dumbfounded, flustered, and flushed look on Jack's face as the girl stared at the negligee cinched it for Rachel. It was a must. She grabbed the brunette's hand and dragged her to the sales lady nearby. Jack protested lightly, but without any real effort.

"Is there something to put this in? ...It's supposed to be a surprise," Rachel explained to the sales rep.

The woman glanced from the blushing girl staring at the sexy, green item and smiled, "Of course. We can put it in a solid bag--put the scan tag on the outside. ...Knock 'im dead, girl."

"Thanks," Jack muttered as she grabbed the small bag and tossed it into the basket with the packages of bras and undies.

After a short time of snagging a few plain, white short- and long-sleeved shirts, they decided that Jack had sufficiently replenished her stock of whites. Now they had to collect Riddick. Upon heading over to the hardware section, Jack became more interested. Rachel noticed how she started taking notice of the merchandise and let her eyes linger on the various tools--most of which were either sharp-edged or pointy. The redhead silently observed this with a small hint of humor. Perhaps Jack _did_ know how to shop--just not for clothes.

They found Riddick with a few things under his arm, a few TardisCo power cells and a case of DiamonDrill drill bits. Apparently his workshop tools needed a little maintenance, themselves. They hadn't had anything break, yet... but it was always good to be prepared. He looked at the basket she had and raised a brow. Jack blushed and would have crossed her arms, were she not holding the basket. She had a little more than she expected to get when she came in, so what? That was half-way Rachel's fault, anyhow!

The brunette glanced off to the side in mild embarrassment and received a distraction. She leapt upon it, equal parts genuine interest and as a diversion. She pulled a small, plastic-wrapped multi-tool off the shelf. It had the appearance of a Swiss army knife in terms of function and hand-held design. Jack flipped it over to read the back to see what various gadgets it included.

"Check this out. It's like that blade-work tool you gave me, but it's got a full carving kit."

Apparently, this was the equivalent of talking shop with Riddick, who also became interested. Rachel hadn't seen him interested in very much--well, not in a non-violent way--since she boarded the _Gift of Nyx_. Big Evil took the plastic-sealed tool, gave a look at the specs on the back of the box, and took a moment to read a few things over.

The tool had just about everything, a sawing blade, a tiny auger good for making holes, a coring blade to widen holes, several chiseling and gouging tools, a shaver and plane, paring blade, and a peeler blade. On the other side there was a blade sharpener. One end was a round, blunt end made of metal; suitable for hammering something. There was also a small, multi-purpose, and durable file/sander that was removable from the body of the tool. This last bit, Riddick supposed, was for polishing works. He nodded.

"Beautiful," the bald man muttered, then grabbed another off the rack and tossed both into Jack's basket. This was followed by either a suggestion or a command--probably both, "Check out."

When they met with the cashier, she went about ringing up the items. Said cashier was around Jack and Rachel's age and probably working here as her first job. The girl paused at the bag, scanning the tag as she glanced up at the customers. The redhead grinned back at her and the brunette blushed as the item was placed with their other items. As she rang up the final price, she swept her eyes over the _large_ man wearing sunglasses who was studiously looking disinterested in the world around him.

The man paid for everything; the cashier was more than a little envious of the street rat, but didn't let it get to her. The mouse grabbed a few of the bags and the man moved out of the line. As Jack picked up the opaque bag containing her negligee, she met the cashier's eyes.

"Have a good evening," the girl said with a knowing grin.

The green-eyed girl's face turned an interesting shade of red and hurried off after Rachel. Riddick followed silently, but not quite obliviously. He knew there was an undercurrent going on between the girls... The man wasn't sure if he should be amused or wary. Knowing Jack, the wisest and safest answer was likely _both_.

* * *

They left the shopping center just past seventeenth hour. The girls and Riddick had made a simple run for a few items and it wasn't surprising they were successful. They hadn't done anything spectacular to draw attention to themselves. Nothing unexpected occurred to hinder this little outing. Riddick should have known it wouldn't last. As they moved down the wide sidewalk where stray particles of sand and dust stirred from a sandstorm that morning, his eyes immediately focused on the excess of movement approaching them.

A boy was running forward, his eyes hopeful and intent. He had a goal of some sort, but it didn't involve Riddick. The boy was ignored until he opened his mouth and shouted.

"Hey, wait up! Deirdre!"

Directly in front of him, Jack went ramrod straight and halted in her steps. The bags she had been carrying fell to the ground. The green-eyed girl immediately began back-pedaling from the approaching boy, but her back slammed into Riddick's broad form. He put his hands on her shoulders and held her fast--anchored her in the here and now; somehow protected her from the eerie flashback to... _her_. With her back against his chest, he could feel her hyperventilating.

The boy ran beyond them, continuing his dash after someone--someone _else_--named Deirdre. Even so, Jack's panic attack was just reaching fever pitch. Rachel had paused when she heard the bags drop. She stared at the two of them with confused and worried looks. Riddick's grip tightened just slightly on Jack's shoulders. Then he bent down to snatch up the bags and replaced a single hand on Jack's shoulder. He used that hold to steer the street rat into an alleyway. The mouse concernedly followed.

Leaned against a wall, Jack shivered in a cold sweat, her mouth open and panting. Her arms wrapped around her waist, fingers curled tightly and fisted parts of her shirt strong as a death clutch. Her eyes closed tightly as she slid down the wall.

"Jack... are you with me?" Riddick rumbled.

Rachel remembered him asking this before, when she visited Jack at the Al-Walid's house. She wasn't sure of the significance of it, but it was somehow important. She looked at Jack, who looked trapped in a time and place beyond reach. Confusedly, green eyes flicked up to stare at Riddick, squinting slightly... as though she couldn't fathom how he managed to _be_ there, standing before her.

"...What?"

Riddick knelt down, squatting on his haunches as he removed his sunglasses, quicksilver eyes shining into her own, which were glassy and tearing. Those verdant orbs were expressive and vulnerable; found reassurance in the cold-steel gaze. Jack shuddered again, her fear still very alive and the adrenaline screaming through her system like a chemical rollercoaster. Her breathing was slowing down with the distraction from past horrors. The street rat's fingers trembled as they slowly unclenched, leaving the sides of her shirt wadded, wrinkled, and sweaty.

"Are you with me, Jack?"

"I-I think so," she answered waveringly. The strength began to return to her eyes and she took a deep, focused breath; the exhale had a bit of a shudder to it, but no longer hitched an uncontrolled. It would take a while for her system to calm from its geared-up state. Her nerves finally firmed up, "Yeah. I'm with you."

He waited a few moments--just to make sure she wouldn't break on him. Her eyes told him she was good to go.

"We need to get back to the ship."

Jack nodded, shoved off the wall, and pushed herself to her feet. She wiped her eyes and brow, then straightened her shirt as best she could. Another deep breath and she pulled up a mask; this one pleasantly blank and untroubled. It reminded Rachel of the time when Jack had used a 'happy mask' with her after the Pit; it bothered the shorter girl that the brunette was so adept at hiding herself.

He glanced to the redhead; she'd been very quiet. Riddick knew she was observing and soaking up information. He hoped that she remembered his request, because it was about time to bring it up. As Jack followed Riddick out of the alley, Rachel brought up the rear.

Jack had problems. He knew that almost from the first time he spotted her. His initial thought was that, at some point, she would be eaten alive... some point fairly soon. At the time, it had been a figurative thought, that she would escape the crash of the _Hunter-Gratzner_ and summarily be swallowed in her own problems on a new world. Die or simply turn into a shell, she wouldn't have lasted long.

When all his assessments began to take on a literal sense, and it became an imminent threat that she might be truly devoured by the creatures of that planet... something had changed. Carolyn had changed something in him and suddenly it became one of his top goals to get her, Fry, and Imam off that planet. That goal was second only to his own survival.

Now she was threatened again. This time, it wasn't something physical that he could grab, break, or cut. That same thing that he had seen at the very beginning was eating her from the inside out and he had no way of stopping it by himself. Jack was going to break.

'_Fuck that. Not gonna happen._'

His denial was startlingly fierce, but it was true. It had to be. Riddick didn't know how he would stop it from happening, but he didn't have to... There was a doc for everything these days and he was sure Mouse could find one that could help. Big Evil wouldn't stand idle as Jack fell to pieces. He had to do _something_--it bordered on necessity. That primitive, animal side stalked his mind in outrage and demanded he protect the girl. Riddick knew the feeling wouldn't go away until he was sure Jack wouldn't break.

* * *

The trio sat quietly in the lounge. Big Evil remained pensive on his recliner with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped under his chin. Jack had curled up on the couch with her knees to her chest. Rachel sat beside her; hands in her lap fiddling occasionally. The air was almost tense and both girls could see the gears turning in his head. It was only a matter of time before he broke this silence.

While Riddick was contemplating, Jack waited to see what it was. Rachel, curious as to why both of them were sitting there, doing nothing in silence, quietly observed. It was plain to see that something was bothering the large man.

"How long're you gonna do this? ...Never mind that, how long've you _been_ doing this, Jack?"

She picked up quickly on the topic. The brunette shrugged, "I dunno. If I don't remember doing it, how'm I supposed to know?"

The escaped convict nodded; it was a valid but disturbing point. If she just hid away anything traumatic, there was no telling what all happened in her past. He just hoped she didn't go through another 'episode' when they were out. What had just happened was just a shock... a nameless fear. If something triggered a memory while they were in public, everything would go to Hell in a hand basket.

"If I had to guess, it might have started before I left for Daedalus. I mean, my Aunt and Uncle were assholes. Maybe they did stuff that I didn't wanna remember..." She groaned, just thinking of the sick possibilities; of not knowing what really happened in her own life, "Oh _shit_, what if I didn't spend just two weeks with 'em? What if I was there for _months_--who knows what they really did? What if I'm some kinda nutcase? What if my mind's totally psycho-fucked 'cause o' something they did?"

Her voice was climbing toward hysteria--realizing just how big of a sinkhole this repressing thing could be. She hadn't wanted to believe Imam when he told her that doing it would be problematic. The problem was spitting in her face more and more, these days--since she'd left with Riddick. What if she went bug-fuck someday and killed everyone in their sleep or something? What kind of dark traps lay in store for her?

"Easy, Jack."

"But what if _she's_ still lurking somewhere in my head? I buried her--I don't want her coming back!" she said, fists clenching on the couch cushions.

"_Jack_, calm down."

Rachel carefully asked, "She who?"

Neither responded.

"Jack, you need to talk about it, sometime--maybe not with me, but with someone. Maybe some doc. They're s'pposed to be able to fix up things like this."

"No. I'm not going to bring her back."

"What happens when something that happened to _her_ or something _she_ did comes back to bite us in the ass?"

Quiet reigned for a bit.

"...I'm scared of her," she finally admitted in a quiet voice.

Riddick sighed, trying to think of a way around this--at the very least get her to consider the option of seeing some kinda shrink. He usually screwed with the heads of the ones he saw in slam, but this was a different.

"I know you won't want to hear this, Jack-"

Her head whipped toward him so fast he wondered if she hurt herself, "_Don't_."

"-but she can't hurt you-"

"Riddick! _Don't_."

"-because you _are_ Deirdre."

"_Fuck you_!" she yelled, abruptly standing up from the couch.

"_Sit the fuck down_!" he bellowed as he stood. His commanding tone of voice sank her back to the couch, where she remained silent and glaring. "I'm sick of going through this shit every time somethin' creeps up from your past. I'm done with it, Jack. We're gonna fix this. Now."

Jack remained silent, refusing to speak on the subject at all. She started to tune him out. Nothing to do with _her_ could be good. She died and was going to stay buried--nestled nice and deep where no one would see her ever, _ever_ again.

"You go ahead with the silent treatment, Jack... but I'm findin' a shrink and you'll see 'im if I have to drag your ass to him every appointment."

_That_ got her attention. She lifted her eyes to him, smoldering with unspoken rage. Her jaw worked fiercely, but still no sound emitted from her. She couldn't believe he was doing this to her!

"An' if you think you're just gonna sit there all quiet with him, we'll just stay there 'til you feel like talkin'. However long it takes, Jack. I don't care; but it's getting worked out."

Silence and seething anger met him. In mere moments the temperature of the room seemed to simultaneously scorchingly sky-rocket and frigidly plunge. However, Rachel watched as the nigh-hateful glare simply bounced off Riddick's expressionless countenance.

"You found anything, Mouse?"

Jack startled gaze whipped to her and Rachel almost flinched at the almost betrayed expression.

"I-I found..." she cleared her throat, trying not to let Jack get to her, and firmed her voice to sound more capable, "I found two doctors in behavioral psychology--among other specialties--planet-side. In fact, they're in the same building. They both hold the same titles. I wasn't sure which was better."

"Which one's been around the longest?" he asked.

"Uhm... Dr. Tachygnic," answered Rachel after looking at the files. She stumbled over the surname--it wasn't one she had ever heard.

"He busy?"

"He actually has the smallest caseload, right now. The other has about nine cases; he has four. I only considered the other because Jack might be more comfortable talking to another female... she has equal credentials," she ended the sentence questioningly as she glanced to the brunette.

Jack smoldered, her fiery, forest-green eyes burning holes into the wall dividing the lounge from the kitchen. When addressed, the girl stood and stalked out of the lounge, retreating to her room. Her door zipped along its tracks and banged shut. Rachel glanced down glumly at her com-pad.

"Don't let her get to you with that. She's just pissed. ...Probably stay that way for a while," Riddick said offhand, but there was no hint of nonchalance in his glinting gaze.

Rachel nodded.

"Jack doesn't give a shit about what gender someone is, she'll say what's on her mind. ...Might as well go with that veteran doc."

"Should I set up an appointment for her, then?"

Riddick nodded this time, "Yeah, set it up as soon as you can; just remember to leave at least three hours for the cargo... anything else we can schedule around."

"Okay."

* * *

WEDNESDAY

At the eighth hour sharp, Sorin walked into his office that morning with the same impatience he had been feeling for the past week. It would likely be another week before anything came of it, but he couldn't control how he felt. There was only so much joy to be had from watching his project recover from adverse effects faster than expected. Even faster than expected was slower than he wanted. It couldn't be helped, though. Since any tests during this period would be colored by the effects of the specimen's illness, the doctor kept occupied by thinking up new tests and scenarios to run on his special project.

He sat down at his computer and began typing out the mandatory project report, though there was precious little to write about such an uneventful, unproductive week...

_Weekly Report_

_Week 317_

_ My observations of the subject continue. It is tolerating well and no adverse effects are apparent. I have moved Specimen 74's schedule back a week while more antibiotics, anti-venoms, and viruses are introduced into its system._

_ Of note, the dense structure of its skin required a stronger syringe. I want to avoid using a larger needle if possible. The specimen's agitation has been displayed several times in the form of hisses and clicks, jerking or twitching movement of the tail, and bearing its teeth. We are carefully watching the specimen for any violent responses._

_ It has tolerated injections well and no noticeable or unpredictable side-effects are apparent._

_ -Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research_

This finished, the doctor turned away from the monitors and sat in thought. After a few minutes, he knew he had best check in on the specimen. Snagging his coffee, he headed out the door and toward the room containing his subject. He checked the monitors to find Specimen 74 shuffling about its room without any particular focus. The standard clicks normally heard as a constant had, for the past week, become a low, rumbling buzz. Sorin thought it might be because its throat was congested or sore. Sniffs and the occasional cough were also heard through the audio. He was pleased to see that, as instructed, the subject was drinking lots of the protein-rich fluid they provided in a variety of flavors.

* * *

Abu Al-Walid always ate lunch at home with his wife. Ziza was home from school early; the school was having a fair sponsored by the middle school. The elementary and high school afternoon classes were likewise cancelled so the students could attend. These yearly fairs were a way to expand the children's horizons and involve them in the community. Imam was setting the table for dinner when he heard a polite knock on the door. Immediately following this, he heard Ziza's excited charge for the door. Even as he turned and headed for the door, he knew that his daughter would reach it first. As if to prove his point, he heard the door swing open and light spilled in from the foyer.

"Lynne!" he heard Ziza exclaim.

"Hey there, little one. You excited about the fair?"

The Holy Man paused slightly in his steps, then shook himself out of his surprise, and continued to the door. Lynne was running a hand through Ziza's hair and mussing it. Ziza giggled. When Lynne looked up from the little girl, she noticed Imam. She smiled at him.

"Councilman Al-Walid, hello," she greeted politely, inclining her head to him.

"Hello, Lynne," Imam replied easily, "Please, come in. Was there something the Envoy needed?"

The redhead shook her head as she followed him into the dining room, "No, everything is well with the Envoy."

"Ah. Your parents and yourself, then?"

"I think I am progressing well. My parents and I are leaving; I'm going on an internship with them. It should go a long way to give me some world experience for when my duties begin."

Abu continued setting the table and smiled back at her, "Yes, I have faith that you will perform admirably, young Lynne. What was it you needed?"

"Well, there's a good chance that we might run across Riddick and Audrey--er... Jack? Anyway, I was hoping that you would allow me to take some of her things. Their departure was rather abrupt and I have a feeling that they didn't have time to stop by here."

"That is correct, I did not see them before they left. Depending on how much you can take with you, I am sure Lajjun and I could pack a few things for her. We will be attending the fair, however, and I do not have time right this minute. We were about to have lunch," he explained as finished setting the table, then he paused and turned to her, "Would you care to join us, or do you have plans?"

"My parents and I will be attending the fair, as well. I just came by to ask. We'll be leaving after the fair; would it be okay if we dropped by around eighteenth hour to pick up her things? Is an hour enough time?"

Imam nodded, "Yes, it should be."

Lynne smiled, "That's good. I appreciate your offer, but I will be eating with my parents and then heading to the fair. ...However, I could use a glass of water, if you don't mind. The sun's just starting to peak, after all."

"Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all, young Lynne," he acquiesced understandingly as he went into the kitchen.

Lajjun, who was looking over lunch, paused briefly to greet Lynne. After the refreshing drink had revitalized her, Lynne let out a sigh and smiled her thanks. Imam took the glass from her and saw her to the door.

"Thank you, Councilman Al-Walid. We'll see you this evening, then. Have a good afternoon."

"Very well. Good afternoon, Lynne."

* * *

FRIDAY

The flight to the Nano-Med, Inc. Distribution Center on Nemaeus 4 was uncomfortably quiet. The only words spoke came from Riddick as he made very slight corrections to Jack's piloting. She didn't respond to his corrections verbally, just as she hadn't in their spars. Instead, she dutifully followed his instruction and went on about her business. Unless something absolutely required a verbal response, the street rat refused to speak. Jack hadn't spoken more than four sentences over three words long since Monday.

Once again, spars had devolved into another series of 'I'm pissed; let's see if I can pummel Big Evil' sessions. Riddick was getting thoroughly sick of it and he considered saying something... but the things Jack did when she was angry impressed him too much. He had decided to let her go about her little tantrum; she was improving her combat skills by leaps and bounds. In other areas... not so much improvement. Tension became thick as peanut butter whenever the two of them were in a room for any length of time. Riddick was never one to apologize--especially when he didn't feel like he had anything to apologize for.

He hoped she wouldn't be hostile while they were acting as the Connals. No matter how much Big Evil was humoring this little silent treatment of hers, he would _not_ allow her to blow their cover. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry. The moment the girl walked down the ramp, she adopted an expressionless mask that he would be hard pressed to beat.

They arrived at Nano-Med, Inc. at 10:30 on the button. The floor manager they met for their cargo was pleasant enough, if a little busy directing the carefully controlled chaos. He delegated one of his dockers to forklift the three crates of Nano-Med Plus tubes into their cargo bay. Ami was not only their hardest working docker, but one of the union representatives, and knew how to keep things moving at a good pace without sacrificing quality. The woman said she would meet them next week for the other half of their shipment--the Nano-Med Plus canisters. With Ami's help, they had all the cargo well-placed and strapped down with time to spare for a leisurely lunch. Before they left, the woman commended the Connals on their smooth loading, commenting that she wished some of her own crew were as diligent.

The ride back was as quiet as the ride there, save for one moment when Jack let out a large gasp when a downdraft slammed the ship. Riddick had taken control of the ship and safely saw them to ground them until the heavy winds subsided. Most hover-vehicle traffic stopped while the impromptu gales raged. After 20 or so minutes, the winds subsided and they received an all-clear notification from the weather watch system.

The brunette didn't say anything, but she was grateful that Riddick took over; she had panicked and didn't think to increase the bow thrusters. Later, he explained that using the bow's thrusters in tandem with the reverse thrusters would bring them out of situations like the startling, near nose-dive earlier; once the ship was leveled out, guiding the ship to ground at an angle was better than trying to touch down perpendicularly. Jack nodded and Riddick could tell she would remember that. Even so, her wide, green eyes showed that she was not in a hurry to ever be in a situation where that information was required.

* * *

"Jacquelyn Riley," called the receptionist.

His hand rested on her shoulder, guiding her all the way down the hall. It was as if he didn't trust her to go forward on her own. Probably right; given the chance, she might just storm out. Her head turned slightly to the waiting room and the exit residing there. His grip became a little firmer. Shit.

They turned right at a door with a name on it. Jack didn't bother reading it. Riddick directed her into the room and she saw a man of average height and build. Black hair, brown eyes. Glasses. Nondescript kind of person. The look was probably cultivated to put people at ease. His almost freakish normality only put her on edge. Riddick moved her over to a chair and, lest she suffer the indignity of being pushed down into the chair, she seated herself.

Eyes immediately went to the window, freedom five feet away--and eight stories down. She refused to meet the studying gaze of Doctor... who gave a fuck who he was. He went through the typical "I'm here to help you" and "My name is" bits. She tuned both out; she didn't care to learn his name and wasn't going to listen. His goal was to let _her_ out, and that made him the opposition.

"Richard Riley. This's Jack," Riddick said easily.

"Hello, Richard, Jack. Since this is our first session, I feel we should talk about what the goals of our sessions should be and how we will reach those goals."

'_You wanna screw with my head, that's your fuckin' goal._'

She didn't reply. Riddick gave her a sidelong glance. As she'd been doing for the most part of the past two days, she ignored him. Finally, he gave in and began talking when she refused.

"Jack's not going to make this easy. She's got more than a few problems--she won't talk about 'em, though. Turns to stone every time I bring somethin' up. She's still on one of her silent treatments."

Jack said nothing, but she pulled out a length of unworked metal from her pocket and retrieved the file from her left boot. With blatant disregard to both of them, she began shaving slivers of metal from the bar. The sound of metal sliding against metal filled the room. Riddick glared at her from behind his goggles.

"What do you have there, Jacquelyn?"

'_Wait a little and I'll show you up close, asshole._'

Almost as if he could read her thoughts, Riddick held out his hand.

"Put it up or give it up, Jack."

The sound of paring metal continued, and the pile of shavings grew on the carpet. Heedless of his growing dissatisfaction, Jack continued to shape the shiv to her liking. Suddenly, he had her shiv-hand by the wrist. She hit the inside of his elbow, and twisted her wrist out of his grip. Riddick shoved her right hand away snagged her left wrist again. She shot out her right hand toward his wrist and he checked it, directing it somewhere over his shoulder. Riddick pressed his thumb into a pressure point on the back of her left hand that made her jerk and drop the length metal.

He released her hands and caught the shiv-in-progress before it hit the ground. He slipped it into his belt behind him.

"You're not gonna tune this out, Jack. You can work that on your own time, but in here... you deal with your problems."

The doctor watched the lightning-quick movements of the two. It was like something out of an action-thriller vid. Both had dangerous looks on their faces as they glared at one another. Jack crossed her arms and glared out the window again. Riddick sat back, appearing a little less pleasant than when he had come in.

"If you can get her to talk, that's points to you, doc... If she starts pulling that shit again, tell me. We're working this out here and now."

Riddick left them alone, then. It was against his better judgment, but he didn't think Jack would kill the man. Run out, maybe. He'd deal with that. Honestly, he knew it wouldn't happen overnight... he had to give it a chance. Jack deserved it. For a long moment, he stood outside the door--wondering if he should have stayed during this first session or not. He once read something somewhere about people needing emotional and moral support.

'_Right. Moral support..._'

He moved back to the lounge.

* * *

Doctor Vincent Tachygnic watched the large man move out of the room. The short episode saw its end and their natures returned to their stagnant appearances--the man at once stoic and the girl taciturn. He turned his gaze to the girl. Vincent continued to stare at Jacquelyn--hoping for some sort of response... but she was a difficult one, as Mr. Riley had said.

"Jack, is it? He seems quite obdurate. Does that bother you?"

No answer.

Finally he came to a decision. It wasn't particularly ethical, but it would work.

"Mhm," he noised seemingly to himself. He scribbled noisily on a sheet and glanced up at Jack periodically during his writing. The list he was making continued to grow.

Slowly, Jack's attention slipped over to the man's pen. What the _Hell_ was he writing so much about? She hadn't said anything to him--what kind of psycho-fucked analysis could he be coming up with? The more she thought about him making judgments on her without knowing _shit_ about her, the angrier it made her. Finally, after almost two minutes of enduring his thoughtful speculation, she snapped.

"What the fuck is so interesting? If you keep eyeballing me, you'll lose 'em."

Whether it was a turn of phrase or a threat, Vincent didn't respond to it. Instead, he went on with the thoughts he had prepared for just this moment.

"I understand you're Mr. Riley's co-pilot. Did you know that, as a government-licensed Doctor, I have the ability to rule someone as unfit to drive or operate heavy machinery? I have a drawer full of blank forms..."

Her eyes burned into him coldly. _Fucker_.

"Try to sign that paper, and I'll break your hand," Jack all but growled, this time bypassing all hints and moving straight into overt threats.

"I suspected as much. You seem quite capable of handling yourself, which makes me wonder why you're here..."

Jack snorted, "'cause he's making me."

"I doubt it's out of his own sadistic pleasure," Vincent countered.

The reply was a mutter, "...that's probably half of it, though..."

Raising his brows, Doctor Tachygnic leaned back.

"So what's the other half?"

Jack crossed her arms, "Thinks my repressed memories are gonna fuck us over at some point."

As the words left her mouth, Jack realized that he'd manipulated the answer from her and her face went red with anger. How _dare_ this asshole toy with her mind? Her entire body tightened, fingers digging into the upholstery and pulling at the arms of the chair. Her frame shook with barely suppressed invective.

"Fuck you!"

'_So much for suppression. Repressed memories... now _there's_ something you don't hear every day._'

This obviously wasn't some inane fear of success or typical hormonal teen depression. If he had to guess, he would say she was wise beyond her years. Even though her mouth could probably peel the siding off the building and make platoons of Marines blush, he was not about to underestimate her intelligence. There was something about her... something atypical.

For the first time, he had something worth writing. He moved the little notepad and opened a file. He began by writing down two, short lines and ended it with a question mark.

"What the _Hell_ have you been writing?" she demanded.

Vincent tossed her the small notepad. Jack snagged it with nary a glance.

'_Good coordination. Then again, the earlier display with the piece of metal said as much._'

Jack glared at the small list before her.

'_Four sweet potatoes, half pound of brown sugar, two bags of rice, turkey... What-_'

"-the fuck?" she said aloud.

"Just a list of things I need to buy after I'm done here," Vincent said placidly.

Jack realized that he'd weaseled answers out of her with a _grocery list_, which only served to make her angrier--but also grudgingly respect him. He was smart--wily, too. Maybe as conniving as Riddick was when he got all pent up a few weeks into space without cryo.

She crushed the list in her fist and threw it at him.

Vincent took off his glasses and retrieved the mangled paper from his desk, taking time to restore it from its crumpled form. When he'd finished, he leveled his eyes on Jack. The seriousness in his gaze made her suddenly wary. Wary like an animal, Vincent thought, because she shifted in the same manner his dog did when he stared at it disapprovingly after it had gotten into the garbage. However, this was no domesticated grovel, but a purely predatory response to a threat. Jack would have raised hackles if she had a fur coat, he bet.

"This isn't a game, Jack. If you're serious, then repressed memories are not something to trifle with. I want to help you... but I'm not going to force anything else out of you. I doubt I could.

"But I _do_ want to put something on your mind. There are a great many responses that can come of repressed memories when, or if, they ever surface--and some of them are violent." The therapist paused to make sure he had her attention, "They could be harmful to yourself or to others. I don't like the idea of people getting hurt, that's why I'm a doctor. I try to help--make things better.

"However, this isn't something where I can just sprinkle some magic dust on you and fix every little bad thing that's happened in your life. I'm not a miracle worker, Jack. I can't help unless I understand. I need to know what's happened, where you've been in your life."

Jack's glare moved to the window again, "Where I've been, Doc, you'd've been eaten alive. Literally."

'_Curious,_' Vincent thought, "Literally?"

Her eyes snapped to him. They were simultaneously enraged and panicked.

"You ever see someone get ripped apart? Fuckin'... shower of blood. They're just so much _meat_ for the monsters. Can't even recognize 'em when they're done. Picked clean, only tatters o' muscle hangin' off their bones. Almost hear the screaming even after they're dead... or maybe that was the monsters singin'.

"People die, Doc, that's just the way it is. So take your altruistic psychobabble and _shove it_. You can't fix _shit_."

She shouldn't have said that. All she'd wanted was for him to shut up! She was too angry to think straight, right now; not angry enough to kill, but she was getting close...

The fear was creeping up steadily on her anger, slowly replacing it with whoops and trills... hisses and clicks....

Jack grabbed for the necklace, squeezing it tight in both hands. Fuck him for making the sounds come back! Fuck him for making her have to fight them off again. How many times would they put her through this shit? She wasn't sure she could last much longer. Some times were easier than others, but it was no less frightening every time.

'_I'm okay. I got away. We escaped. I'm okay._'

"Jack..."

'_'s okay... We left... I'm okay..._'

"_Jack_."

Her tightly clenched eyes slowly opened. Too bright for the cave, even with the glowing grubs. Daylight. An office. Not that planet... The fuckin' doc was at his desk, leaning forward in an effort to grab her attention. It was his fault.

"Don't pick my head, doc. Ya won't like what ya find," she snarled shakily. "I'm the fuck outta here."

She stood up, one hand still fisted around her necklace. His eyes were drawn to it. What was she holding? She stalked out the room in as menacing a retreat as she could manage. Vincent sat back in his chair, letting out a breath. That could have gone better. Then again, he supposed it also could have gone much, much worse.

* * *

TUESDAY

Fisher-6 was a relatively quiet, if not law-abiding world. The best way to describe it would have been an industrialized, planetary slum. Between the tangled mass of wiring between buildings, the various power plants, and the gleaming, metal structures... a large part of the surface appeared to be a gigantic version of an old-worlds motherboard.

The analogy was so common that slang terms for the capitol included 'CPU.' The world itself was filled with the mechanically and technologically inclined. Specialists of many types of non-organic sciences, both legal and illegal, could be found here. Unfortunately, that made finding anyone in this profession who didn't want to be found nigh impossible. A person could be tipped off at the speed of the Networks and disappear before anyone ever reached their doorstep. Not only were inhabitants of Fisher-6 proverbial needles in a haystack, but the needles could _hide_.

Fortunately for the Sentry Sector field agents, they had someone on the inside--someone angry. This time, Sentry wasn't wasting their time when they found the trail led to Fisher-6. That was why, in the dead of the night, promptly at the twenty-eighth hour, a certain apartment door was kicked in. After that, it was organized and pre-planned pandemonium...

"Sentry Sector! On the ground, now!" came the shouts as eight agents flooded the suite.

Two men immediately held up their hands and were summarily dragged out of their chairs and to the ground. The third tried to run, but was caught as he was opening a window. This individual was _thrown_ to the ground and cuffed. Rights were read, charges were cited, and the three men were hauled to their feet and loaded into a Department of Defense prisoner transport.

They would be taken to the docking bays, where they would be transported to Fisher-2; a penal colony planet. Fisher-2 was an all-in-one judicial system. Its temporary holding cells, courts, and prison were all contained on that one planet. The prison facility was minimum- to high-security. In the event that someone truly diabolical came along that was deemed too dangerous for general inmate populace, they were shipped to a maximum-security prison such as Butcher Bay Correctional Facility. The Fisher System, for all its under-the-table, illegal, black-market bravado... did not want those types in their territory. It could even be said that the crime and corruption of Fisher-6 and the Fisher System Stations were mostly non-violent.

The charges against these three men in particular were a good many counts of cyber-terrorism, illegal access of a private network, and grand larceny each and all. They operated in a group known as 'The Knights of NI' under the aliases Arthur, Galahad, and Lancelot. However, in all their many felonies, they made one, glaring mistake. They broke a common hacker law--the second one, to be precise. A hacker's alias is sacrosanct.

When one hacker uses another hacker's alias--for any deed or function--it is a given that there will be retaliation. The Knights of NI had not anticipated just how much trouble they might stir. There was a mysterious lack of foresight when they considered using the third most-wanted hacker group alias to cover their tracks. It is best to let sleeping dogs lie... especially when said dog is a three-headed hound of Hell.

* * *

Everyone at Sentry Sector had a front seat for the action. This take-down was a point for their redemption, whereas the DoD had begun to doubt them. The live feed from one of the eyepieces of their field agents cut, leaving them with a triple-paned screen. The files on the three computers had been seized and were currently displayed for their review.

"Quick an' clean... just the way I like my sandwiches," Torvald said, leaning back from his monitor. There was a well-placed--if not overzealous--grin upon his face.

Lieutenant General Greco looked up from his console to his old friend and raised a brow. His sarcasm was thick, "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're enjoying this."

"This has been annoying me for a while," admitted Torvald, "When I was in the Riddlers, we never _stole_ anything. Sphinx wouldn't associate with someone petty enough to knock over a bank. So when I heard Cerberus hit the Aquilan Banking Trust... it was kinda hard to swallow.

"What was an upper echelon group of hackers doing swiping UDs from a bank? To what end? It was just a little off-kilter, but I didn't have any evidence to support my theory. It didn't _sound_ like Cerberus' usual activities in any of our profiles. They'd never attempted something so blatant or malicious.

"Seeing this; seeing the truth come out and the problem solved... _that_ makes it all worthwhile. I'm certainly enjoying this. Sometimes hacking isn't about breaking into something that's supposedly unbreakable or knowing something others don't want you to know... Sometimes it's just about doing something nobody's done before. With Cerberus' help, we've solved an almost insurmountable case faster than any other high-profile case we've ever had."

He paused, his grin returning, "That's something. That is certainly something. Now! I'm going to grab a drink. All this action's got me a little thirsty."

Torvald stood up and noticed that his two shadows shifted to follow. By now he was used to them; not pleasantly, of course, but in a way someone gets used to a bad smell through desensitization. His investigation had to end sometime--there really wasn't that much to him.

The hacker paused by the exit and turned back to the sector's head, "Tony, you want something?"

Antony paused and shrugged, "I'll have a Coke."

"Sounds good to me," said the suspended agent as he moved to the vending machines in the hall.

'_So foul and fair a day I have not seen..._'

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

This chapter had a little bit of everything! I'm pretty happy with it. Some of these scenes have been sitting in my head (or pre-written in a file waiting to be pasted in) for quite a while! That this point should actually come about is just... wow! For me, at least. These are areas that, when I started, did not figure to see for a very long time!

For me, this is a little milestone. Jack's first therapy session marks what I had once consider a "future event" to happen "later." Now it's here... and we're one step closer to their destinies. Well, sort of. Heh. Onto my thoughts on this chapter!

Where to begin? Lynne's got another cameo, here. I love her to death; she's one of my favorite non-Zolus characters--up there with Zimmy and C4sper. Much with many things, I want to tell you all about stuff with Zimmy, Lynne, C4sper, Specimen 74, Nicholas, and Rachel... but it would just be a massive spoiler. Sharing my thoughts on scenes like this could ruin it.

So! Next we go to Jack. Finally, a bit of Jack's past begins creeping up on her. What will come of this? I did a little bit of everything with Jack, this installment. This chapter is mostly about her. I hope you enjoyed your Jack-time. I tried not to minimize Riddick's spotlight, though, even with the focus on Jack. Since the Nemaeus Arc is mostly Jack-centric, there's not a lot I can do to change the fact that Jack is gonna be in the forefront of a lot of scenes.

Another Wednesday report from Sorin! Poor bastard's bored. Feh. He'll be back to poking and prodding Specimen 74 soon enough. If you're wondering how many reports I have for this? Your answer: _a lot_. Enough to see us through the Nemaeus Arc.

Jack's first therapy session was important for me. I really needed to get everything in there... but at the same time, I'm aware that precious little is ever accomplished on the _first visit_ to any therapist. So! What we've done is give Tachygnic an idea for where to go in this therapy.

...Some of you might be wondering how to pronounce that. It sounds like Tak-ee-nik. Or just 'Tacky Nick'... whatever you prefer! The 'g' is silent.

At last, we see the sum of all Rachel's and Sentry's efforts realized! The imposters have been apprehended! ...Be warned, we're not done here. (Cue evil laugh--or maybe just an evil chuckle.) Stay tuned for more on Aquilan Bank robbery developments!

Oh... and if any of you were wondering, Thug, Beth, Vince, and I got together to think up what brand names might have survived the centuries. We don't have an exact time frame for the Riddick universe, but I figured it couldn't be thousands of years or anything outlandish. We figured Coca-Cola, Pepsi, McDonald's, and Burger King were probably still around (somehow). I hope that explains the sudden and incongruous request for a Coke by brand name--I didn't want to break the fourth wall or anything.

Finally, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Thug, Beth, and Vince for all their help! Thanks guys!

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	22. 22: Business As Usual

22

"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 22: Business As Usual_

WEDNESDAY

As the eighth hour rolled around once more, morning dreariness took a backseat. The door opened and an older man entered the office, purposefully crossing the royal blue carpet and to the mahogany desk with the five-screen computer that would completely obscure him from view once he sat behind it. His steps were energetic; a thick folder under the same arm held his coffee. Today was both exciting and vexing; there was much to do today.

With the specimen's health restored last Thursday, his experiments had begun almost immediately. Friday and Saturday were frighteningly enlightening. Even the annoyance with the security could not dampen the thrill of having more information on the subject. Sorin cracked a small smile as he ran his mind over the recent events.

With his notes in the folder for consultation, the doctor's fingers began flying over the keys. He wanted to detail this report for later reference; it could be important to future applications of this experiment. He put those applications out of mind; best to focus on this first...

_Weekly Report_

_Week 318_

_ This week, we introduced the final environment to Specimen 74. The aquatic setting was extremely enlightening. The subject was given some material to review on the com unit--mostly fish and sea-going mammals from Old Earth as well as a few general swimming lessons. When introduced to the water, I half expected it to flounder for a short time. Instead, it took to it like a fish._

_ The subject glided through the water like a shark. The more I review its anatomy, the more I wonder how I missed it in the first place. The specimen was built very similar to that of a shark, even down to a collagen corset. Perhaps the subject's land-based lifestyle kept me from guessing this immediately. Seeing Specimen 74's prowess in the water was startling. I loosed some fish into the pool. The subject caught four of the six fish and consumed them. It used its whole body, tail included, to throttle itself through the water with speeds that were sometimes hard to follow. Its velocity was such that it was able to propel itself out of the water and clear the edge of the pool enough to land on all fours._

_ Unfortunately, the guards have interfered once again with the objectivity of the research. Upon trying to apprehend Specimen 74 and return it to its quarters, the subject leapt into the water again. It came to the surface, its head bobbing above the surface like a buoy. It toyed with the guards, remaining about a foot from the edge. When one of the guards reached for the subject, it glided backward another foot. I didn't realize the seriousness of what was occurring until it was too late. Specimen 74 was baiting the guards, I now see upon review. When a second guard held one arm of the first so he could lean out over the pool to reach for it, the subject made its move._

_ It dove into the water with a whip of its tail, sending a small wave of water at both guards. This unexpected event caused the guard at the edge to lose his grip and fall into the water. It was at this point that I began to worry. The guard tried to swim to the edge, but Specimen 74 darted through the water between him and the edge of the pool. The subject repeated the maneuver every time he approached an edge of the pool until it had herded him into the center. This reminded me that, however simple the subject may seem or how innocent it may sometimes appear, Specimen 74 is very much an intelligent and supreme predator._

_ It shot toward the guard just under the surface and lunged out of the water above him. In another felid pounce, it took him under. Reviewing the data from the underwater cameras showed what I could not see clearly due to the water's distortion. Specimen 74 circled around and came back at the guard. It sank its jaws into the man's right bicep. Thankfully, there was no permanent damage, but one of its teeth was left embedded in his arm, which required removal. The subject surfaced briefly and let out a long, pitch-blending tone, then dove back underwater. It circled him as he approached the edge of the pool, but did not prevent him from leaving._

_ The subject remained in the pool for another twenty minutes or so, and then exited the pool (at its own leisure) as though nothing had transpired. I must stress again, to all employees that have any physical contact with Specimen 74: they must adhere to safety procedures at all times. Becoming lax leads to events like Friday's episode._

_ On a lesser note, closer inspection of the video revealed clear, inner lids, which Specimen 74 closed while under water. The subject's DNA donor has no eyes, and Homo sapiens have no such membrane; where these lids came from is a mystery._

_ On Saturday, I went to speak with the specimen, myself. When asked why it had disobeyed the guards and attacked one, Specimen 74's reply was vague (as are most things it says). I quote, "Doctor Ferguson is new." This was true; Doctor Ferguson joined us just this past week. I asked what that had to do with its actions the day before, and it replied, "Why do you not follow his commands?" I told the subject that I was Doctor Ferguson's superior, and that he did not give me commands. Specimen 74 nodded (in that exaggerated fashion I have become accustomed to) and promptly lay down to sleep. I was not foolish enough to think it was unconscious; I could almost feel its eyes on me the entire way to the door._

_ It took me a moment to realize the utter sense Specimen 74 had made with primal logic. I had to look at things from an almost tribal view... or perhaps "pack" view would be more apt. Wolves' hierarchy shifts in power between alpha males and females; the pack instinctively recognizes their leaders, the alpha male and female. In my public reprimands of the guards, I must have diminished their "rank" in Specimen 74's mind. If I were to hypothesize what that meant for Friday at the pool, I would assume that the subject was asserting its superiority over the guard, vying for a higher rank in the pack--as it seems to view the entire research team. This only enforces what I have been saying about safety precautions. Anyone of a high "rank" is at a larger risk--as I cannot be sure that Specimen 74 would not try to challenge an employee for their position of power. There is no doubt in my mind that the subject is an alpha female._

_ -Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research_

Even with these little setbacks, the gain more than made up for them in leaps and bounds. He had already concluded what tests he wanted to complete today and the following week. Sorin thought it better to redirect his tests to something with a little less physical interaction. He did not want the subject to have more chances to establish its 'rank.'

Last Friday, they were lucky to come away without casualties. From its dietary habit of biting through the shells of melons, he was perfectly aware that the guard could have lost an arm that day. These displays of violence made him wary. In the future, he would be watching Specimen 74 very closely.

Sorin saved his report and stood. He filed away the folder's contents and grabbed a com-pad. It was time to see his dangerous, little specimen and start this week's tests.

* * *

A cigarette was lit and a long drag taken. Ash fell to the dirty, metal floor. A long exhale later, and smoke trailed through the air, mingling with the stench of trash and the poignant odor of hopelessness. ...Riddick was a slippery, shiv-happy psycho. It was fortunate that he was a horny, shiv-happy psycho, too.

It was 11:00 Standard, there was plenty of time to drop by the cathouses on this shitty station. Toombs looked around Daedalus. He had started in the dingiest, darkest area on this oppressive hunk of metal: Deck 2. This was definitely a place Riddick would hole up. The merc wouldn't be stupid enough to wander down any dark alleys...

There were more than a few whores to speak to and probably a brothel or two on this level. As he looked around, he noticed that it might be best not to linger. There were eyes on him--nothing he could verify; just another gut feeling. Every time he looked to where he could feel eyes upon him, people would just be milling about. They were all watching him. Guys carrying guns tended to attract stares; the fact that they weren't looking at him right now just meant they had long ago learned how to avoid eye-contact.

Toombs would start at the brothels--easier to find girls there. The street-walkers might very well hide when they saw him approach. He would start off around the massive ring that was Deck 2... from Corridor A and would circuit the whole way to X before he was done. It would take the better part of the day to check them out. The next day, he'd wait half the day to let the word get out he was looking for that bald bastard, then he would come back and ask the ladies on the corners.

Taking another drag of his cig, he eyed the shadows of Corridor A... This shithole had so many missing lights. Riddick could still be here, watching him. Could just be the station, though. Daedalus was the kind of place that suffused everything in a thick layer of paranoia; it was contagious. It was a good thing he had a big pair of brass ones, greed to match his ego, and a strong, selfish survival instinct.

* * *

Rachel was eating lunch while her mind wandered here and there. She had been caught up with recent issues. Maybe it was just avoidance. It was swiftly becoming clear that no answer was coming to her just sitting here. She was no closer to figuring out what Mrs. Zimmerman was planning. She could browse current Alliance missions from now until doomsday and never discover how Zimmy was planning to find her--or what whoever they sent planned to do when they found her in Riddick's company.

Revealing herself to the non-hacker world wasn't something she was comfortable doing, but it was a little late to hide herself away. Submitting their homework the way she did, the redhead was sure people got the picture that she was far more capable than she had initially let on. She could only imagine what her teachers were thinking by now. Recently, her Advanced Com Technologies teacher, Mr. Deckard, was starting to test her patience with all the little snares he was laying.

It wasn't so much difficult to post her homework for her class as it was time-consuming to brush aside his precautions, post Jack's and her homework, then put them back in place. She was starting to wonder if she should just remove them and let him wonder what happened. Everything he was doing was textbook! Mr. Deckard always told them to think outside the box... so why was he only sticking to what he'd probably read in books? He should have been experimenting in his free time to see what did and didn't work.

Rachel practiced long and hard to get where she was. Hacking Sentry that first time wasn't an idle drive through their coms. She was laying out lines of code and commands, constantly responding to query after query, and submitting false V-IDs that she determined their systems would believe were real. There wasn't much finesse in it; she knew Sentry would find out that she was there when they checked their logs. There just wasn't enough time to cover her tracks as completely as she wanted... That would have taken knowledge of their systems; she didn't have that. Everything was on the fly.

It was a challenge; that was the point. Copying the Sentinel AI was proof that she was capable. She had only meant to prove it to herself, but it wound up giving her quite a bit of notoriety. The girl had no clue just how useful the Sentinel program was until she'd opened its source code. When she did... it was astonishing just how many doors were now open to her.

Her alterations and additions to that source code made it into something she could appreciate even more. A subsequent copy of the file and a few lines of co-op coding yielded executables that would work together; dual-run programs--heads of Cerberus. She often wondered what Sentry was doing just leaving the Sentinel AI inactive; it was possibly the only thing that could stalemate either Minos or Rhadamanthus.

'_One of them, but not both,_' Rachel smirked, '_Especially not after my tinkering._'

She was very pleased with the irony of the situation. The anti-cyberterrorism division of the Department of Defense provided one of the best hackers in the known systems with the ultimate com applications.

A frown crossed her face. Sure, Minos and Rhad were there for her, but they didn't help in her current predicament. How was she to contact Zimmy without completely tipping her hand--while getting the ex-Marine to tip hers? It wasn't like she could just demand answers from her concerning what the Alliance was doing. She was sure the only 'contacts' that had any hope of finding her were the woman's Alliance ties. One didn't just waltz up and demand to know what the Alliance might secretly be doing. The last time she had requested that sort of information from the people of Sentry, even C4sper had balked. She doubted that Mrs. Zimmerman would be any less reluctant to simply lay out all such plans.

It was time to make a decision; she'd spent too long being inactive for her tastes. Rachel didn't feel comfortable contacting her mother without a clear idea of what she was going to do. She knew that Cassie and Mrs. Zimmerman would be looking it over for clues. As annoying as it was to censor everything she said, the redhead understood the necessity.

'_If I don't come up with something by Friday... I'll have to confront Zimmy personally. I _have_ to know what she's planning,_' Rachel asserted, even though she wasn't comfortable with the conclusion she had reached.

A chime broke her thoughts, then Minos announced, "A news broadcast concerning the Aquilan Banking Trust robbery has just been issued."

Rachel immediately became alert, sitting up straighter and setting down her mostly-finished turkey sandwich on the plate in her lap. That was a good thing about being planet-side; she could get some _real_ food. Her mind quickly focused on the monitor on the wall.

"Put it on-screen," she commanded.

The screen brightened to life and revealed a reporter covering a story. Beside her were three photographs. Her grey-blue eyes greedily drank up every syllable and pixel on the screen. Was it...? Yes! This was it!

The woman on the screen was of Asian descent, nothing gave more specifics to Rachel's eyes. The woman had short, straight, chin-length hair that so black and fine that it nearly reflected like a mirror. She was dressed in a stylish work suit; a white, single button jacket and pencil skirt with a thick, black trim. It complimented her tanned skin, dark hair, and warm, russet eyes.

The anchorwoman was standing in front of a blue-to-red gradient screen, the blue taking up three quarters of the screen on the left side. In the last, red quarter, three squares held faces that were obviously the topic of this report. Along the bottom of the screen, on a grey strip, white text read: "_Aquilan Bank Case Cracked_."

The woman had just started her report, "-ecent breakthrough in the Aquilan Banking Trust case. Three men have been convicted of several counts of cyberterrorism, illegal access of a private network, and grand larceny. Alliance authorities have not released the identities of the men, but have stated that they operate under the aliases of Arthur, Lancelot, and Galahad as a group known as the Knights of NI.

"The Alliance has claimed that all assets can and will be returned to the Aquilan Bank with all proper amounts in each account. The hard work and dedication to this case has eased the minds of many account holders through the Allied Systems--especially those of the Aquilan System, who were hit hardest by the robbery. Over the next month, the Alliance will be working with the Aquilan Banking Trust to replace the stolen assets. Alliance authorities state that they are confident the problem will be resolved soon.

"In addition, sources say the Alliance has proposed new security measures for the Trust, which will make another such theft nearly impossible. We were unable to get more detail on these security measures, but we will keep you informed. This is Jade Nguyen, reporting for Aquila Major News."

The screen cut to the AMN Network symbol. The guide below showed that stock market news would be followed with sports news. Rachel wasn't paying attention, however. As soon as the report ended, the mousy girl leapt to her feet.

"_Yes_!" she exclaimed, and then noticed that her sandwich and crumb-filled plate had just been dumped onto the carpet, "...shit."

At least she was mostly done with the sandwich. Rachel went to the wall next to the door that led to the hallway. There was a small locker-like door there to a compartment, which held the lounge's hose for the ship's central vacuum system.

* * *

Lunch was good; better than the shit he had on his ship. Those were half a step above military rations. It was slow-going in his investigation. There were people everywhere; hiding here and there and shying away from him. Typical slums, here. He'd seen worse, but not much worse. Getting information from these people was like pulling teeth from a foul-tempered, Tauran landshark. The moment they thought he was anything more than just some visitor or thug, they clammed up. And God forbid he pull out a picture--the people here wouldn't even look at the screen. Automatically, they claimed not to have seen anything or anyone.

'_Fuckin' ship of mice and not a one rat..._'

He doubted he would do any better than the first hour he was here. There had to be someone in this shithole that would be willing for a few UDs. Where would he find someone almost as greedy as he was, and just a little dumber. Preferably someone he could intimidate. There were street urchins more likely to send you on a wild goose chase and pocket the UDs, and then try to pick your pocket later. Then there were the thugs, who didn't bother him so long as he didn't bother them... best to stay out of all those shadows; ol' Dickhead might still be lurking around the place. Lastly were the whores, and that was a sticking point. If Riddick were here for any significant period of time, he was sure the bald bastard had at least seen one or two of them.

Typically, the killer's tastes ran slightly finer than starved street-walkers trying to look prettier than they were. He was surprised they had any business; most of them had skin-and-bones physiques, faded dresses, and make-up that barely covered gaunt faces and sunken eyes that might have been signs of a drug habit or just how close they were to drop dead where they stood due to starvation. So it was a whorehouse he was looking for. Any number of brothels along this desolate ring could hold just the tip he needed. It shouldn't be too hard to... _coax_ some answers from them. A few UDs in this place could a long way. A badge and a gun would go even farther.

He started up his search again at 13:00 and spent the next hour going door to door--and whore to whore--questioning them, just shy of demanding. He had the UDs presented, but also made sure they had a clear view of his hand resting on his hip... just above his gauge. It was part threat and part promise of reward. So far he had gone to no less than five brothels. The next one he came to was on the H-I Block on Deck 2; _Madame Marian's Roses_.

* * *

Kiara sat behind the front desk at work--that sounded so mundane and professional. Were it not for the fact that she was in a brothel, she very well might believe that. The woman snorted quietly and continued to look over the profits and income. She was pretty sure she ironed out the error. It was only 36 UDs, but that was over twice the girls' regular cut of the profit. When she balanced everything this time, there was no discrepancy. The dark-haired woman nodded to herself. So far, everything had been running smoothly. With a glance to the clock, she figured that the evening crowd would be along soon.

That would make Zoe happy. Benjamin came in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Sometimes Zoe spent the weekends with Ben. Honestly, that worried her--a pretty, young woman in the Zolus heartland couldn't be safe. That man was good to her, though. She really hoped that he would keep her safe, but didn't know how that Zolus could protect her all the time. It was the same worry she had for Pandora and the rest of the small band of children she was helping to support while working here.

Still, even with her worries, she couldn't miss how Zoe seemed to anticipate Ben's arrival. From Benjamin, Zoe shared news about some major changes occurring in the Zolus; good changes that would help everyone. The girl seemed overly optimistic and Kiara was reticent about the whole thing. Time would tell if it was true that the Zolus were actually going to start _helping_ people on Daedalus instead of just grinding the station's less fortunate inhabitants under their boots.

When the door swung open, she fully expected to see the young, well-built, young man in pseudo-military garb. Ben told Zoe that ever since Randal came in, things became more militant; after Randal's death, the other commanders decided that the system worked well enough. Kiara sighed; Zoe thought uniforms were 'wicked hot.' It was Wednesday and Ben usually came in at fourteenth hour and stayed until sixteenth.

Zoe, freshly fed and prepared for the evening shift, was idling on a little couch against the wall in the large waiting room. When the door swung open, she was on her feet. Kiara could see the surprise on her face quickly mask itself and did the same. It wasn't Ben. Putting on a professional mask, Kiara smiled cordially at the man.

"Welcome to Madam Marian's Roses, how may I help you?" Kiara asked in standard greeting. There wasn't much else a person came here for beyond the obvious, but it never hurt to keep an air of professionalism.

The man had scraggly, brown hair and a lean figure. This lean-bodied visitor wore a brown duster over his typical merc gear; all of it black--multi-pocketed pants, boots, and a vest with more pockets and places to put ammunition and other useful items. His hard, blue-green eyes cast themselves around for a moment before he moved to the desk. He rested his elbow on the counter and leaned in a little too close for comfort. His grin was less than savory, but they didn't get many savory types in here...

"Yeah. I'd like to see the girls," he said almost diplomatically.

It was a common request and, if it weren't so soon after lunch, then most of the girls would already be out here. Kiara nodded and excused herself for a moment to gather the girls. In the time it took her to notify the girls that they had a customer, the man had wandered over to Zoe. The girl was standing beside the couch talking to the merc. Once again, he was invading personal space; with one hand on the wall beside the girl's head, he was speaking to her in a falsely pleasant tone less than a foot from her face.

Zoe looked tense, but kept shaking her head. The imposing non-customer ever-so-calmly continued to question the girl. When he didn't let up, Kiara became concerned. Something wasn't right about this--she didn't know who the man was, but he wasn't looking for their services. His duster was pulled back slowly to reveal a shotgun on a thigh holster and Kiara's heart leapt into her throat. Zoe's eyes glanced down quickly to the gun and slammed back to the dangerously playful eyes of the mercenary.

"I can make it worth your time. Hundred UDs for anythin' you can remember. 'Course, the more ya can remember, the better. Wouldn't want me to think yer holdin' back on me, would ya? After all, he's the kinda guy that sticks out in yer mind, so just think about it. ...Don't worry, I'll wait," Toombs said with a grin as he dug out a cigarette from a pack in his pocket.

The door opened, but Zoe didn't dare take her eyes off the man in front of her. The seemingly nonchalant merc didn't seem too interested in anyone else, either. She swallowed, mouth dry, but couldn't seem to form any words. Would he shoot her if she didn't know anything? Would he shoot her after she told him? That sort of catch-22 made her unsure what to say. Sure she remembered that man--who wouldn't?--but there was no telling what this guy would do if he found out.

Kiara stood tensely by the front desk. She didn't want to give the man an excuse to draw his weapon. As the door opened, her eyes flicked to it. A clean-shaven, well-built man entered. His blank expression immediately darkened as his eyes locked on mercenary and Zoe. Ignoring Kiara, the man in paramilitary-style garb made a beeline for Zoe. He stopped a few feet behind Toombs and flipped the clasp open on his hip holster. Ben drew his pistol and flipped off the safety.

He finally met Zoe's worried eyes and asked in a deceptively calm voice, "Is this guy bothering you?"

"He, um," Zoe swallowed again, daring to take her eyes off her interrogator's face for a moment, "He wanted answers..."

The scurrilous soldier-of-fortune's response was condescending as he turned around, "That's right, I wanted some answers from the little lady. So save me yer limp-dicked, pussy-whipped, wannabe-macho-fuck chivalry and mind yer own-"

The mercenary found himself staring down the barrel of pistol a foot from his face. Ben's head canted to the side just slightly, revealing the blue-and-white Z on his neck. A mirthless smirk stretched across Benjamin's mouth, but it never reached his intense, light-brown eyes.

"Keep talking. Maybe eventually you'll say something that will reverse all that other stuff you just said."

Zoe took the opening provided and slid off to the side, behind Ben, and then over to Kiara. The older woman drew her behind the desk and into their kitchen, where the rest of the girls had returned when they saw the situation wasn't good. Kiara continued to observe, but backed up to the kitchen door after Zoe... just in case.

Instantly more placating, the merc raised the hand near his gun out to the side to appear harmless. The other hand nabbed a thin ball-chain around his neck and pulled out a rectangular piece of hard leather hanging around it. On the piece of leather was a badge, "Hey, guy... easy. I'm in blue. Name's Toombs--freelance-"

"Mercenary," finished Ben. He knew the type.

"I'm just tryin' to ask the ladies some questions. Let's keep it all peaceful-like... No need to go slingin' guns."

At this, Blitz grinned maliciously; the gun didn't lower. "Welcome to Zolusland. You've got questions... we've got answers. Some of them could be hazardous to your health."

Unperturbed, one hand slowly slid to into a pants pocket. Toombs retrieved a data-pad and showed it to the man. A bounty-card showed on the screen with a hefty sum beside it--over a million UDs; enough to entice anybody. The picture above the short description and price showed a bald man wearing goggles. "I'm looking fer-"

"I think you should look somewhere else," the Zolus interrupted.

It was made abundantly clear to all members that the Zolus were not interested in dealing with Riddick. If the man wanted some merchandise or information, he could pay the usual fee. They weren't doing hits or harboring him, however. The commanders labeled him 'unpredictable, uncontrollable, and dangerous.' The Zolus didn't play with wildcards like that.

"Look, standard Guild practice sanctions the questioning of any possible informants necessary to acquire a bounty. I ain't stepping on any toes. You got a problem, you can contact the Lupus Guild."

Benjamin countered, "I got a better idea, how about we contact _my_ superiors. I'm sure they'll be _very_ interested in what a piece of shit merc is doing in _our_ territory."

Toombs was edging back toward the front door, hands still carefully nowhere near his weapons. Blitz's gun trailed him the entire way. He wasn't eager to gain more ventilation in his body. The merc gave a ungracious grin.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

And then the lanky man slipped out the door and was gone. Ben pointed his gun down, but not all the way--just in case the asshole came back with guns blazing. That would be amazingly stupid and the man would never make it off the station, but stranger things had happened. His free hand went down to a radio clipped on his belt. He switched the channel to commander-only.

"Coleman to any commander," he said calmly.

#This is Saint August. Go ahead, Coleman.#

"I got a merc on Deck 2 sniffing around for Riddick."

There was a pause before his reply came, #A merc? Just one?#

"Yeah, name's Toombs. He looks ready to stir up some shit..."

#I see. We'll keep a close eye on 'im. If he heads back your way, keep him busy until we can have someone back you up and escort him to us. What's your 20?#

"Uh..." he stalled, then cleared his throat, "Madame Marian's Roses, on H-I Block."

A chuckle sounded over the radio, #If you're planning to stay a while, you can keep an eye on the place.#

"Yes, Sir," Ben almost muttered.

There was another chuckle, but then Nick's voice became serious again, #Saint August out.#

* * *

Nicholas paused and leaned against the wall where he was roaming Deck 7. Zimmy said she'd be sending two mercs out and that they'd be on a non-violent search. They were supposed to be searching for Riddick to find a girl, but there was no mention of a girl and this Toombs didn't sound _peaceful_. Alexis wouldn't send someone like that to them--and Zimmy's mercs were supposed to check in on Deck 3 when they arrived. Hell, as far as he knew, she hadn't even _sent_ the mercs, yet.

'_I need to talk to Zimmy... looks like she's got some competition._'

* * *

"Ben..."

Zoe was hugging her arms, still a little shaken up. Benjamin moved over to her and put an arm around her. If Toombs came back, Blitz would lay the man out and haul him by his ankles to Deck 3...

"You okay?"

"Yeah... he just got in my face and kept asking me all these questions..."

He squeezed her shoulder a bit, "I took care of it. We shouldn't have any trouble from him."

Whether that meant the man would be dead or just forcibly removed from the station, Zoe wasn't sure she cared. That man made her extremely edgy. She shuddered. Instead of replying to his statement, the dark-haired girl just nodded.

Ben directed her up the stairs and saw her to her room. He put her to bed, and gave her a kiss. This time, he didn't bother initiating anything--she was a bit too shaken for that, still. It annoyed him that the merc had messed with his girl, but he had taken care of it; no use dwelling on the issue. Instead, he focused on holding Zoe until she drifted off. Benjamin quietly extricated himself from her and returned to the lobby. The other girls were sitting at the various tables, chatting softly. Business as usual. He moved to Kiara and handed her a 100 UD bill.

"She's sleeping. Let her rest for a few hours."

Kiara nodded.

"Is Marian back there?"

"Come on back, Ben," the brothel's owner called.

He slipped into the kitchen and leaned against a counter.

"What's on your mind?"

Blitz took a moment to gather his thoughts--and perhaps his courage--before venturing, "I've been saving up for a while."

"Oh?" Marian asked, wondering where he was going with this.

"I'm planning on getting off the station. Heading planet-side."

Marian wondered if he would leave everything on Daedalus behind... Everything and everyone--or one person in specific. She blinked at him, "Oh..."

"I'm sure the Zolus could place me, but it'd probably be a couple of months before I had to make the move. I haven't even asked for a reassignment yet, but... but I was gonna take her with me." He didn't need to explain who he was talking about. He glanced away from her and settled his eyes on the sink, "I know she's... important to you and your business..."

As he trailed off, Marian smiled softly, "Don't worry about that. We'll be fine. I think it would do both of you good to get off this station. If she leaves, you keep her out of the business--and take care of her."

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned, then paused, "Oh, um... don't tell her. I haven't asked and I want things set up, first. ...And I wanna tell her."

"We'll surprise her, then."

Benjamin smiled almost boyishly, nodded, and then left the brothel. Marian came to the door of the kitchen and watched him leave. The woman smirked. Young love.

* * *

Rachel managed to wait until after she had finished her homework for the day to start her hacking. It was seventeenth hour and she'd been eager to speak with C4sper since twelfth hour! Quickly cleaning her glasses with a small cloth, she donned her headset and began typing while having Minos and Rhadamanthus open various programs.

"Open V-ID Mirror program and speech-text. I need to talk to Sentry. ...Keep a close eye on them when I'm in."

"Of course," Rhad replied.

"It's a little early," she rambled as she typed away at her keyboard, "but I don't think they'll mind. I can't wait to hear how it happened. I can't believe it's done! Anyway, we'll slip past their vanguard. I'd prefer to go straight to C4sper's com. If he's not logged on, let's look for Lt. Gen. Greco's com. He's usually available if C4sper's not."

Neither Rhadamanthus nor Minos had any comment for this. None of it seemed to be directed at them. While the programs still had trouble with rhetorical questions, these were simple commands and statements. They were still relatively young, as far as run-time went. In a mere two years, they had steadily developed in their self-advancement software. It sometimes made Rachel wonder how far along they would be in years to come.

"I have the list of V-IDs, Minos. Run a check for me; I want to know if C4sper's com station is active and logged in. Rhad, query their network for access to the hub. Don't take no for an answer; use their systems request channel, if you have to."

* * *

Torvald was sipping from another can of Coke--he had a feeling he'd need the caffeine. Like most evenings, the last stretch was typically the hardest. Having stared at a screen for so long under the scrutiny of the Internal Affairs agents, this was the time when they were on his last nerve and he had to wonder why he was still sitting here. He wasn't stupid; they hadn't reinstated him. Technically, they were still reviewing him. Were they just waiting for him to slip up--or do something illegal so they could lock him up to their harshest sentence?

He tried not to let it make him paranoid. Unfortunately, if he didn't let it make him paranoid, it just irritated him. There well and truly _wasn't_ that much to his file. They couldn't possibly still be reviewing it. The hacking he did in his free time was minimal and harmless, at best. Christ, he sought out logic bombs on servers and removed them _for fun_. If anything, he was a whitehat hero for saving many businesses from systems crashes. He couldn't quite remember when the last time he'd written a malicious code--barring that worm he'd attempted to use on Cerberus. Awfully stupid, that was.

That begged the question: just what did they want? It would be a simple matter to figure it out... if they weren't watching his every move. The curiosity was getting to him. They had him sit here every day, doing only the most menial of things that they could control. He was beginning to think they were just using him to save their asses from Cerberus.

His screen blipped once and he blinked, wondering if it was his eyes playing tricks or if it had really happened. Whatever the case, he was suddenly more alert. That was when everything went to Hell in a hand basket.

#C4sper!#

The blank text document appeared on his screen with that one exclamation. That mere phrase--and probably a few other things going on simultaneously--triggered the amber caution lights and a long series of com-alerts and alarms. If he didn't know any better, he'd assume they were under a full-blown attack. Depending on how one looked at it, that might have seemed the case. Cerberus wasn't malicious and likely just wanted to talk. He'd expected this sooner or later, but not quite in these circumstances.

The Director stood and was shouting commands to various stations. Tony stared at him tiredly and gave him a little shooing motion as if to say, 'Get on with it.' He wasn't sure what to make of it: Cerberus hacking Sentry Sector had become so commonplace that even the head of the agency was unimpressed by it.

As it was, the Director was heading for his station. By this time, the Director had caught on that the best place to be was by Mjollnir's seat when this happened. It was front row for the show that would undoubtedly ensue. The Director was less pleased with events than Tony was. The man was in charge of the daily running of Sentry Sector and, before the series of incidents from two years ago, a request for Greco's presence was a rare thing. In fact, the Lieutenant General was often in meetings getting approval and putting forth requests through the regular channels to get things done. He wasn't needed on the floor; that was the Director's space. So maybe feelings of inadequacy had something to do with the stressed look on the man's face.

He turned around, ignored everyone, and quickly typed out a response, #Aeacus? Your presence is raising Hell with our security systems. Can we talk somewhere else?#

The response was candid and calm, adding a surreal element to the panic occurring all around him. The agents behind him--agents he could be on a first name basis with by now if he gave a shit to learn their names--were both speaking to this or that authority. He vaguely wondered when they would catch on; at this point in the game, Cerberus was untouchable.

#Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't think. One moment.#

In the following moments, every alarm ceased--both across the com systems and their amber-lighted caution status. Shortly after this, his screen blinked again and then another window opened. Aeacus had seized control of his com and forcibly logged him into a Private Discussion Channel. Lastly, the text document closed itself. The Director threw his hands up in the air and stalked off. Torvald watched him go and debated arguing that controlling someone else's comp and shutting off Sentry's alarms wasn't something Aeacus should do. He quickly gave up the idea because it wasn't likely that she cared.

The Host of PDC: AltF4 announced the arrival of Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus. They seemed to be waiting on a response from him. Lt. Gen. Greco put Mjollnir's screen on the main screen. Torvald rubbed his forehead, and then took another long swig of his Coke. Caffeine was good.

#C4sper: So, what brings you to Sentry again?#

#Aeacus: We saw the Aquila Major news and saw the report! That was them, wasn't it? Those were the ones that violated our second law... It's over, now--right? Our name's been cleared and the UDs have been recovered.#

#C4sper: It seems that way. With the paper trail of transfers Cerberus found leading from bank to bank, it's entirely possible we can put all the money back where it was. It will be a lot of work checking bank statements and matching up everything, but it does look like we'll be able to do it--in time.#

#Aeacus: Good. That's good... It wouldn't feel right to have gotten those imposters but not put back the money. Now both money and blackhats are in hand. Speaking of which... you have them, now. They're going to court, right? When is the trial? It's gonna be a public one, isn't it? I'll be able to keep track of it?#

Torvald paused as he read. She certainly had a lot of questions... The hacker hadn't been sure how involved Cerberus would be after the blackhats had been apprehended. It appeared that the group had a vested interest in seeing everything through to the finish. He ordered his thoughts for a moment. Sentry didn't handle the cases--they just captured and delivered cyber-criminals to justice. After that, it was all lawyers and courts. Some of them would probably testify, but that would be the extent of their involvement.

#Aeacus: ...C4sper? Are you there?#

#C4sper: Yes, one moment,# he typed, then turned to glance at Tony.

The Lieutenant General glanced across one of the files on his com station and forwarded them to the Colonel's. Torvald nodded.

#C4sper: They're going to court next Tuesday to plea. Depending on how that goes, we might just go to sentencing. That's what we're hoping for, anyway. If they go for a trial, they'll be slotted for another day and all the evidence will have to be paraded around in court. We're hoping that, with all the evidence that we already have, they'll just plead guilty and throw themselves on the mercy of the court.#

There was a short pause before the response came in. Cerberus was likely reading over that and filing away the information for later. It's what he'd do, if he wanted to keep up on things.

#Aeacus: And you're sure the charges will stick? You have enough to get them?#

#C4sper: Yes. We have entire boxes full of case files over this. If they try to take it to court, we'll bury them in it.#

#Aeacus: Good. Everything's working out with the bank, right? Do you have any idea when you could put the money back into the accounts?#

Torvald sighed, #C4sper: It is... but as I said, it will take time. It could be a couple weeks or it could be a few months.#

#Aeacus: ...Oh,# she replied, apparently Aeacus didn't realize just how much work went into collating the data for each account. #We would offer to help, but we have a few things we need to take care of. We'll probably be busy for a bit. We will keep an eye on the progress, though. That reminds me... The news said Sentry proposed new security measures. Is that our DNA encoder program?#

Torvald didn't know what they would be busy doing, but figured it would be best not to ask. If he did, then the Director and Tony would likely want to know exactly what Cerberus was plotting and how they might be able to stop it or use it to capture the hacker group. After everything Cerberus did to help in this case, it didn't seem like the right thing to do. Instead, he answered her question with a nod and a short line of text.

#C4sper: Yes, it is. If we can swing it with the Aquilan Banking Trust, then other banks might start implementing it, too.#

#Aeacus: _Really_? That would be so cool! I'll keep a watch for that, definitely! ..It probably won't happen too soon, though, huh?#

Torvald blinked. Did Aeacus just _gush_ over that? It was another affirmation to him that Aeacus had to be female--or at least flamingly gay. That brought a smirk to his lips as he smoothly answered.

#C4sper: Probably not.#

#Aeacus: Still, that'd be so cool to see my work on a big-name bank. Wow. I bet--one moment,# the message came in, and then a little bonus to them. She was apparently still using speech-to-text, #Don't eat anything too big, I'm making dinner soon.#

#Aeacus: Lasagna--I bought everything for it yesterday.#

#Aeacus: You'd know that if you came out of your room once in a while.#

#Aeacus: Just don't ruin your dinner. Oh, damn! The mic.#

Then all was silent on their end for several, long moments.

'_She cooks, she hacks, and likes old rock bands. Where were girls like her before I entered the Service?_' Torvald wondered jocularly as he leaned back in his chair. His light mood continued through his analysis of the statements, '_Heh, she'll get the hang of that mic, someday... She must not do many conferences like this if she manages to forget twice in the middle of what is supposedly an important conversation..._'

#Aeacus: I'm sorry, I should stop wandering around with the headset... Anyway, nobody will be cracking that sucker anytime soon. We'll do a few security checks on the bank ourselves after the system is in and let you know what we find. If we can't crack it at our best, then your average blackhat won't stand a chance.#

Torvald nodded, even though he was aware it was impossible to tell, #C4sper: Just do everyone a favor and at least notify someone when you do it; no use causing a panic.#

#Aeacus: Will do. I could always send a message to the bank president a week or two before...#

The Colonel couldn't stop the chuckle that issued from him as he tried to imagine the banker's reaction to _that_. Then he stretched lightly and took a sip from his Coke; the last few drops were slightly flat-tasting. He could use another--maybe something stronger.

#C4sper: That would be a good idea.#

#Aeacus: Thanks for giving us a heads up on things. I have to go make dinner, now. We'll see you around.#

Torvald grinned and sent, #C4sper: ...Say, while you're at it... you could send some lasagna our way. Everyone at Sentry's probably missing meals trying to keep up with you three. We're hungry, too.#

#Aeacus: Now you're just teasing! :P Bye, C4sper.#

#--Minos has left PDC: AltF4--#

#--Aeacus has left PDC: AltF4--#

#--Rhadamanthus has left PDC: AltF4--#

* * *

FRIDAY

Jack was again flying them over to the Nano-Med, Inc. Distribution Center. This time, they needed to pick up the Nano-Med Plus canisters--two crates of them. It shouldn't take them long at all. Rachel was estimating an hour and a half, round-trip. That would be ideal, because it would leave them plenty of time for lunch and Jack to get ready for her second appointment. The first time Riddick took the green-eyed girl to the doctor, they were back about 45 minutes earlier than she expected. She'd no idea what happened, but the street rat couldn't have spent a full session with the man.

Apparently, that was okay... because the therapist was willing to see them again, anyway. Either that or Riddick had called in and _persuaded_ them to try again. Rachel hoped things worked out with Dr. Tachygnic. She wasn't sure how much more she could take...

The redhead could understand the brunette's mood; not the full extent, but enough to get the picture. Something about Nemaeus 4 was eating the girl alive--worse than the thought of going to Daedalus Station. Even so, Rachel would have thought that Jack would reach out to people; would want someone to help her get through this. Instead, the exact opposite happened!

Rachel sighed and flopped onto the couch in the lounge, staring frustratedly at the coffee table. In the beginning, she had tried to give the troubled girl her space to make things easier. She figured Jack would open up when she was ready to talk about it. The genius was wrong. Jack turned in on herself--shut everyone out. The street rat went about things mechanically and blankly; very much like the dead shell that was Audrey, before Rachel knew better. When Jack wasn't working with, receiving homework from, or giving homework to Rachel... they hardly had any interaction at all. All their meals became uncomfortably silent; the lack of her input was astoundingly deafening. Any answers Jack gave were short-spoken--sometimes short-tempered, too.

They couldn't do anything for Jack if the other girl wouldn't let them help and it hurt Rachel to see her best friend slipping away like this. Even though she understood why, it didn't make it easier to deal with and she found herself angry with how Jack was not only hurting herself with this silence, but others. She knew Riddick was frustrated and a bit lost. His vast list of skills had nothing that would aid Jack, but he still tried. The only solution--Dr. Tachygnic--had the brunette fuming at him. Jack knew they were just trying to help, but continued to snap at them, anyway.

Shaking her head, she wondered if Jack was doing this on purpose... just pushing people away and fleeing so she wouldn't have to deal with the problem. It fit, in a way. Jack had a poor life on Nemaeus 4--so she ran away to Daedalus Station. Jack had problems with a Zolus on Daedalus Station--so she ran away from the station. Then she had met Riddick; clung to him like a barnacle on a sea ship. Now that problems were rearing their head, she was pushing both Riddick and Rachel away.

This time, however, there was nowhere to run. Every path led back to dealing with her problems... and instead of doing that, she started lashing out at the people trying to help! The redhead's fists clenched slightly and she glared at the coffee table. She didn't want to lose her friend, but Jack wasn't even trying to help things get better.

'_Damnit, Jack... stop shutting us out._'

Rachel stewed in her thoughts until she felt the ship descending to the Nano-Med, Inc. Distribution Center. She glanced at the wall-mounted com's clock; 10:30 on the button. The young genius drew up her Morrigan Connal identity, wrapping herself up in the charade to cover up her troubles. Outwardly, she was just a trader's daughter working with her father and cousin. Nothing was out of the ordinary and nothing was wrong.

'_Is this how it felt for Jack to be Audrey?_' she wondered before completely focusing on the job at hand.

* * *

The Connals met Ami again, and the docker was ready to go. It took all of 20 minutes to load everything, but Morrigan always overcompensated on her estimations. Ami didn't notice anything wrong with the little family that loaded up. Aislin didn't say much, but she was quiet last time, too. As usual, Murdoch was quick and efficient--the redhead was unsure if there was a time when he _wasn't_. Ami once again praised them on a smooth load and sent them off with a smile--there was a person that enjoyed her work and profited from it.

They had an extra half hour and it only took about 20 minutes to make the trip. Since it was just past eleventh hour, they would have time to grab an early meal before the lunch crowd flocked the restaurants for their share. The flight back to the docking bay was as silent as the flight there. The brunette needed little instruction or correction and the ride was smooth; the same couldn't be said for the occupants of the ship.

* * *

Fourteenth hour neared; it found a man freshly back from lunch. He nodded to his receptionist and headed back to his eighth-story office. Vincent had an appointment due any minute and he wanted everything in place. This patient would be trickier than the others. For a while, the doctor had wondered if he would ever see someone for something _serious_--something more than a mild case of depression or lack of organizational skills. He wanted a case he could really sink his teeth into...

He chuckled lightly, '_Be careful what you wish for..._'

Dr. Tachygnic frowned. Repressed memories. There really was no good way to deal with them. The man had asked for a challenge, and he had certainly gotten it. He supposed that it would be good to get the basics down, first. Who was she? Where did she come from? What could she tell him about her life? He needed a baseline; somewhere to start. Anything she repressed would be hidden, so he wouldn't expect much. In addition, he had to consider just _what_ she repressed. She knew she had them, so chances were that she'd already been having difficulties with events triggering memories; maybe had flashbacks. The young woman hadn't said during their last session--short as it was.

He hoped she would be at least willing to speak with him, today. It seemed, as well, that Jacquelyn Riley had some sort of PTSD. Mention of a planet where people were torn apart by monsters. He grimaced--just where in the civilized systems would she have come across something like _that_ at her age? She wasn't even old enough to join the police or military. The memories might be linked to that; he'd have to carefully question her about it. That would be difficult; Jack was a very recalcitrant individual.

A knock on his door brought him from his contemplations. Amber must have sent them back.

"Come in, please."

True to his expectations, Richard Riley and Jacquelyn Riley entered quietly and somberly. Both of them were focused; it was a little harder to tell since Mr. Riley's goggles hid his sensitive eyes. Instead, the bald man's face was stoic and his entire body seemed to lock onto the doctor. He wanted to ask about the man's disability, but Richard wasn't his focus. If it became pertinent to Jacquelyn's therapy, Vincent would bring it up.

"Hello Mr. Riley, Jack," he said, acknowledging her preference in name.

Jack was studiously _not_ looking at him; once again focusing her gaze out the left-most window, the one nearest to the chair she would probably take. Said chair was furthest from his desk. He had already deduced she was putting distance between them. He watched quietly as Richard put a hand on her shoulder. Jack looked up and over her shoulder at him. The large man slightly tilted his head back and to the right.

'_I'll be right outside,_' the gesture said.

Jack nodded almost imperceptibly. Vincent found it interesting how many nonverbal cues these two had. Just now, Richard removed his hand, but did not leave. He continued to stare at Jack--and she nodded again. Dr. Tachygnic could not discern what message had just passed. In the end, it didn't matter. Jack took the seat farthest from him, as he expected. Mr. Riley left them alone.

"Jack," he began. She didn't respond or even appear to be paying attention, but he knew better, "I was hoping you could tell me a bit about yourself, today. I can't help you with anything if I don't have at least something to go on. I'm not going to beat around the bush like last time. You do need help. I can't help you if you won't let me, so you need to make up your mind right now. Do you want my help or not?"

Her response wasn't scathing or angry, but more _blank_ than he'd expected. Perhaps she was distancing herself from this whole issue. Her calm voice expressed a maturity that he hadn't seen in her last week. On the other hand, her profanity didn't not seem to suffer for the softness of her voice.

"What the fuck do you plan on doing, anyhow? I already told you... you can't fix shit. Everything that's happened already is in the past; why can't everyone just let it stay dead?" Jack pulled a knee to her chest and rested her head on it, still staring out the window and into the sandy winds on the horizon. Her muttered was just loud enough to hear, "I buried her... now everyone's so fucking interested in bringing her back."

Vincent scribbled a few lines on a notepad--later it would be transferred to a com. His brief notes from last time still stood at the top of the page.

_Repressed memories. Mentions monsters. PTSD? Flashbacks?_

To this, he added the following: _Jack states she 'buried her.' Who or what is 'she'?_

"Just because things are in the past does not mean they are gone." He studied her somewhat listless form. This was very different from the belligerent person last week, "The past affects the future, even if you aren't aware of it doing so. What I plan to do is help you find the best way for dealing with your memories. I take it, since you told me you had repressed memories, that you have already come across at least one. Did something trigger it?"

She snorted--a hint of that belligerence, "Rick triggered it. Asshole likes to pull shit from my head and make me confront it."

He glanced at the small, vague file that Jacquelyn had filled out the first time she came. It wasn't stated that Rick was her father; just her guardian. Same surname, though. Vincent decided now would be a good point to go over her history in brief.

"Jack, can you tell me a little bit about yourself? For starters, what planet or station were you born on?"

"Homegrown on this little sand-blasted dirtball," she answered shortly.

"Oh," he said in mild surprise, "And your parents are-"

"Dead."

"If you don't mind me asking, how did they die?" he asked while scratching a few more notes on the pad. She was being very candid, today. Vincent wasn't about to waste time.

Jack gave a shrug. There was no hesitation or visible tension, "Accident when I was nine. They were on their way to work when they were hit by another hover-car. Was shipped off to my dickwad uncle and bitch of an aunt. Self-centered fucks were verbally abusive... never physically." She paused. Finally an emotion; Jack frowned. The expression smoothed out, "Not that I remember, anyhow. Got no scars from that time, so I figure if anything at all happened, it wasn't serious."

The girl seemed to be on a roll, so Vincent didn't stop her, just scribbled quietly on his notepad.

"Spent... two weeks there--I think. Hope so, anyway. After those two weeks, I decided I was better off elsewhere."

"You ran away?" he clarified quietly, so as not to interrupt her thoughts.

"Yep," the brunette said without enthusiasm, "Emptied my school backpack and filled it with a few things. Got the Hell outta there quick as I could. Out of the fryin' pan... straight to Hell. ...This confidential?"

Dr. Tachygnic was quick to assure her, "Unless you are planning to harm yourself or others or commit a felony... yes, it is strictly confidential."

"Took a flight up to Daedalus Station. Spent the next two years there. Picked pockets for UDs to buy a meal..." she trailed off, apparently lost in the past.

"But you didn't stay there, either?" he asked, trying to bring her around.

Daedalus Station. Christ, no wonder she was abrasive. For someone so young, he was surprised that she was even _alive_. How had she survived? He made a note to himself to revisit the topic of Deadalus more in depth in a later session.

"Found a little gang there. Just a few kids like me who'd been there for a bit. We stuck together, provided for each other. ...For a while, I was--complacent, I guess. Made the best of a bad situation. The gang was more supportive than my aunt and uncle ever were. It wasn't the good life and sometimes things got tight, but we saw each other through it."

He nodded. Vincent wasn't about to be judgmental about this. It was obvious that there was no such thing as black and white. It appeared that things were about to become _very_ grey. Speculatively, he watched Jack as she recounted her life in brief. Either she was very distant from these events or she was purposefully ignoring how she felt. His next question solved that for him.

"You didn't stay with this gang, however. You're with Mr. Riley. What happened there that made you leave?"

Here an emotion bloomed. Her face flushed with anger and her brow furrowed. Those green eyes flashed with the same anger he had seen last week and he decided to wait it out--see if she would continue. Her fist clenched.

"Still confidential?"

'_Oh, damnit,_' he thought. If she was seeking reassurance on that fact, things were about to get dark. "Yes."

She began quietly, but it held a tint of intensity that had Vincent leaning forward, "Y'know the Zolus. You gotta, Nemaeus System's their hub... Well, on Daedalus, they have pets--er, exotic slaves.

"I was 12 at the time. It was late--I was late. Makin' quota for my pulls; if I didn't steal, we didn't eat. Had to stick around and nab a few more UDs. We were stretched a little tight and needed the money. I'd been halving my meals to make ends meet. I dropped off my catch and headed back to the vendors. I remember feelin' nauseous 'cause I was so hungry. Ate my soup right then and there...

"It was the first repressed memory Rick decided to rip outta my brain. I know it happened a while ago, but I just remembered it recently--it's still pretty real to me, even now. Fucking surprised that I came outta that alive."

By now, Vincent's attention was riveted upon her. This would be a major step. If he could build up her trust in him, he might be able to help her. She couldn't start dancing around the issue now, though. He tried to bring her back on track.

"What did you remember?"

"After I finished my soup, I headed back. A Zolus pulled me into an alley. He was gonna make me one of his pets. He dragged me along the floor and I was trying to grab something to hold onto so he couldn't. There wasn't anything to hold, but there was this screwdriver on the ground... ..."

Her hands were fisted and she was hugging her leg to her chest so tightly he wondered if she had any circulation left in it. Jack's jaw worked and she took slow, even breaths--as if those measured respirations were the only thing keeping her grounded. Vincent took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He already had an idea where this was going. Christ, he hated when he was right.

"You stabbed him and escaped?"

Jack shook her head. He frowned slightly, trying to make sense of the gesture.

"I stabbed him until he stopped moving. Maybe a bit after that, too. Dunno, the details are kinda blurry."

Vincent managed to hold back from saying something--just barely. He knew that if he said one wrong thing, he would lose Jack completely. Instead, he opted for silence. He had to accept this and move on. They weren't quite done and he needed to know just what kind of damage he was dealing with. He knew this wouldn't be all sunshine and smiles, but the therapist hadn't been expecting anything like _this_.

"I managed to leave the alley and get back to the gang... Sebastian didn't even notice; don't ask me how. I know I was covered in blood. By the time I actually started noticing things around me, I was in the shower. Water'd gone cold--guess that's what kick-started my brain.

"I knew the Zolus would find their guy and then they'd be hunting for whoever killed 'im. I couldn't let the others get killed 'cause o' me. I had to go--had to get off the station before they did a DNA sweep and found me. So I grabbed my emergency stash and took off on the first flight I found. Out of the fryin' pan... straight to Hell."

There was that phrase again. Things got worse? He sure could pick his cases. Dr. Tachygnic stopped her just to get clarification--and to prevent her from slipping back to that time fully. If she suffered flashbacks, the last thing he wanted her to do was immerse herself in the past.

"You said this was the first memory you discovered that you repressed?"

"...Yeah," Jack muttered. Her voice was tired, but her body looked geared up with tension.

"What brought it up?"

"We came back here. Back to the Nemaeus System. I got away and I didn't fucking want to come back. Rick knew something had happened, but I wouldn't tell him. So, asshole that he is, he stops us right outside the system and refuses to go anywhere until I tell him. There was this... argument we had and eventually he cornered me on the issue. Then it just... came out.

"I'd shut the door on that one. Had it all locked up. When he tore open the door, it just surrounded me. I had to relive the whole goddamn experience. I think I passed out afterward. Woke up in bed. Rick was there and had me explain what happened."

Jack took a long, deep breath and steeled herself. She didn't look like she was going to have a breakdown. Even so, Vincent decided to tread lightly.

"So... you left Daedalus Station."

Jack snorted, "Yeah. I found a ship headed for New Mecca, but I only had enough to get to the halfway stop... so Taurus 3 was my best bet."

"So you went to Taurus 3-"

"No," she interrupted, and he paused before he could write anything down.

"No, you didn't go to Taurus 3?"

"I didn't make it there. Ship crashed," she said--once again the blankness had returned to her voice.

'_Good Christ..._' Vincent shook his head slightly. He hoped Jack didn't take that for negation or disapproval... but her eyes weren't on him. Once again, her eyes were watching the wind blow sand beyond the city. He picked up his pencil and quickly wrote a few notes to catch himself up to this point. Dr. Tachygnic nearly had a full page, now. He had a feeling that the vague, thin file he had would be much more plump after a few more sessions...

"We still confidential? Doesn't get much prettier."

Her eyes were on him now, calculating and wary. He met her eyes and nodded once.

"It's not my place to judge you for your past--just help you come to terms with it. You don't have any intentions of harming yourself or others... no crimes you're planning to commit?"

Jack shook her head.

"Then we're still confidential."

"So... the ship crashes. No fuckin' clue where. Planet's full of monsters, though... Not many survived the crash, but most of them got eaten by the monsters. A holy man, Rick, and I made it off that fucking rock. There was an emergency skiff at an abandoned settlement made a while back. The settlers were dead--eaten a while back, probably. We just got lucky. Escaped by the skin of our teeth."

Vincent was staring at her. It was hard to believe, but he didn't doubt it. Everything about those events were given short and to the point. He was quite sure that a lot more happened there than what she was telling him... things that would take a few sessions to iron out. Once again, it was something he noted to return to in a later session.

"So you met Mr. Riley on that planet?"

"Yeah. Rick saved my life more than a few times. He got us off that planet and we snagged a ship. He managed to take us to Helion Prime, to New Mecca--that's where the holy man was headed. He left me in the holy man's custody. We fixed the red tape by sayin' I was an orphan or something. I wasn't really paying attention at the time..."

"Rick left--he was a trader and had business. I wanted to go with him, though. He _should_ have taken me with him," she sighed and took a breath, "So... I spent the next five years actually attending school. Holy man insisted I go. I spent a year playing catch-up since I hadn't been in school since I was nine. By the time I was all caught up, I started my first year of high school. I was still behind, but I could still go to regular classes an' make up what was missing during my free time. Life got boring..."

Vincent looked at her quizzically, 'Boring_...? I would have thought she'd want to settle down._'

"Rick came by, then. We had a few arguments over it, but he finally decided to take me on an internship, as it were. I'd be his little co-pilot apprentice and I'd finish up the last of my classes an' send 'em in. When I get my piloting license, we'll go full partnership."

"So Richard isn't your true guardian? You said this... holy man...?" he prompted.

"Yeah, but there's nothing to say about it, legally." Here she snorted, as if the term 'legally' amused her. It probably did, considering everything that had led her to this moment. "Technically, I'm supposed to be in the custody of my aunt and uncle--and don't go getting any ideas on that. And while Imam is a good guy and has custody... he's not here. Rick is. So, if it keeps the government happy to label him as my guardian, that's fine with me. Less trouble for me."

Dr. Tachygnic nodded. It was convoluted, but it worked and he couldn't complain. Mr. Riley was paying for his services, Jack was getting the help she needed... They could skip the red tape.

"So you came here. Returned to Daedalus, first, though? Before which Mr. Riley confronted you about the incident with the Zolus."

Jack nodded. However, by the way she tightened her grip on her leg again, he guessed that there was more. He shouldn't have been surprised. Vincent composed himself and wondered just what else might have gone wrong. Judging by the fact that it was Daedalus Station, his first guess was: _a lot_.

"What happened while you were there?" he asked gently.

"I was worried that the Zolus would still be looking for me--even after five years. I didn't even want to _be_ there. I don't want to be _here_, either... Anyway... I hoped we could get in, refuel, set up some trades planet-side, leave Daedalus, pick up the cargo, and get the fuck _gone_. Put this whole fucking system behind me. ...It never happens like you want it to.

"Turns out we had a few run-ins with the Zolus. Rick managed to... smooth it out. Mostly. On our way out, there was this really psycho-fucked Zolus by the elevators. All we had to do was ride up to the docking bay, get in the ship, and leave!"

He heard her frustration and saw it written all over her face. They were about to hit something big--something recent and upsetting. Vincent steeled himself for the emotional onslaught he was probably going to have to weather. Jack had her eyes closed and it looked like she was trying to pull it back, but was having much difficulty.

"The Zolus had a pet with him... probably using her as entertainment while he was on duty. She'd been beaten raped a few times; I think he'd just finished up with her when we arrived. A-and she looked _just like_ me. Same age, brown hair, green eyes... A little starved, a little more hopeless... but that coulda been _me_. Couple years ago, it woulda been. ...I-I just got lucky--I escaped."

She went silent. Shaking her head. Her eyes squeezed shut and a single tear leaked from her eye and made a small, dark spot on her knee. It was the first, but probably wouldn't be the last. Nevertheless, he needed to push this; not only because he needed a fuller picture of events, but to get her beyond the event and in the present.

"What happened, Jack?" he asked quietly, almost fearing the answer.

"The Zolus had his gun on Rick. Next thing I know, they're fighting. Rick just fuckin'... pounces on him. The gun went off. I thought--I thought that he got shot. When I checked on him, though, he was busy killing the guy.

"I looked back to Rhiana and... she was holding--" Jack choked, paused and swallowed thickly, "-holding her stomach. She was hurting. _Dying_. I couldn't save her; n-not like Rick saved me. Maybe if we were by the ship... coulda run in, gotten some Nano-Meds..."

Jack shook her head again. More tears were making it onto her pants, but she ignored them, "She kept telling me that she hurt. I couldn't save her. I wanted to help. I just wanted to help. She was hurting so--so I just... stopped it. ...Her name was Rhiana..."

Vincent had his mouth covered with a hand, staring unseeingly at his pencil laying on the pad. He glanced up to Jack, finding her silently crying. Mechanically, he grabbed some tissues out of the dispenser on his desk and handed them to her. The doctor was feeling a little faint at the moment. This wasn't anything he'd been taught to deal with. Text books and seminars never really... prepared one for these moments.

He probably sat for a full minute just _thinking_ about it before he started planning on how to deal with Jack's distress. Vincent would deal with his own distress later. After taking another deep breath, Dr. Tachygnic refocused on the current issue.

"Sometimes we are faced with... difficult decisions, Jack. Sometimes none of our choices are good. I'm sure that you did the very best that you could... and that's all that anyone would have expected of you."

He couldn't praise or condemn her actions. That would be too judgmental. He could, however, try to keep her from judging herself. Self-recrimination like this could destroy people. Vincent couldn't have her breaking on him now. He hadn't even begun to help her. ...There was a lot of work to do with Jack.

Jack's voice rose, sad and angry. Frustrated.

"But why me? I'm not special. I'm the one that got away from that Zolus and escaped Daedalus. Hell, I left Daedalus _twice_! Something shoulda... Rhiana shoulda escaped. At least once. Why am _I_ the one that makes it? I even got put on a planet of monsters... and out of those fifty-some people, _I'm_ one of the three that makes it out! It's not fair. None of Imam's boys made it. Rhiana didn't make it. It's not right--I shouldn't even be alive to _make_ those kinds of decisions!

"I woulda traded places with her. She deserved to escape once... I think I stole it from her."

"_Jack_!" Dr. Tachygnic cut in forcefully, "You can't take responsibility for other people's actions or what happens to them. You didn't pull the trigger."

"But I _did_ kill her," she said with deceptive calm.

"...She was going to die, anyway, Jack."

This caused a fresh round of quiet tears from the girl and he reached for more tissues. He glanced at his watch. They had another ten minutes... but he wasn't going to press for more. She needed to collect herself. There would be plenty of time to address these and other issues in future sessions.

Jack slowly recovered, but eventually managed to stop crying and composed herself admirably. While her eyes were a bit red, there was no other outward appearance of her previous grief. By the end of her session, Vincent had Amber send Richard back for her. When the large man appeared, his single hand on her shoulder seemed to do more for her composure than anything he could have said. Whatever bond Jacquelyn held with Richard, it was probably the thing that kept her sane this long...

Richard and Jacquelyn Riley left and Dr. Vincent Tachygnic remained in his office. He sat back, staring into space for a moment before glancing to the day planner displayed on his data-pad. There was an appointment in an hour, the last of the day. He sighed and used the com to call reception.

"Amber, please hold my calls for the next half hour."

#Yes, Dr. Tachygnic,# her voice responded.

He cut the connection and sat back heavily, once again staring into space. Vincent doubted he would sleep well, tonight. His thoughts were still whirling. Glancing to the pad and pencil, he let out another long sigh. Then he picked up the pencil and began to write.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

What a complex chapter! It took me a while to put it all together. Still, I think it's better for that little, extra wait. We kinda jump all over the place with this one! It also had a bit of angst. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And now, for my thoughts on things...

First off, we had the report! Yes! The specimen is back in action and Sorin's got plans, as always. Hope you enjoyed this one. Yes, the lull is over and the reports will be getting back to the good stuff! I absolutely _loved_ this report. It stands out as one of my favorites over all the others.

Toombs makes his reappearance! You can just bet he's ready to stir up some trouble for Big Evil. Stay tuned for more of his ever-so-lovely personality as he hunts down Riddick!

Rachel finally gets the news. I bet you've all been waiting on this! We're not quite done with all of this, but rest assured that things are going well with the Bank, now. Cerberus' name is cleared! Mwahahahaa!

Toombs has a run-in with some characters introduced several chapters back. Zoe, Ben, Marian, and Kiara make their debut again and there will be more from Kiara in later chapters, as well! She hasn't been forgotten! Nick also makes a short cameo here. It looks like Zimmy will be popular, soon!

Now we get to see the friendly ghost in its natural habitat. Observe how it panics when hacked. Heh. I loved this scene. It's been geminating in my head for a long while and I've finally finished with the Banking Trust case and can now call it done!

It looks like Rachel's got a lot on her mind. Things will have to work themselves out or there might be problems. Speaking of problems, Jack's latest session became a lot more than a short recap! Vincent is finally realizing just how big the problems are when working with the lesser of two evils... Now that he knows a bit about what he's dealing with, can he fix Jack? Stick with me to find out. See you next chapter!

Finally, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Thug, Beth, and Vince for all their help! Thanks guys!

* * *

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	23. 23: It's Who You Know

23

"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 23: ...It's Who You Know_

Riddick saw them home around the sixteenth hour, directing the largely unresponsive girl. This time, it wasn't the uncomfortable tension that created the silence. She hadn't told him what happened this session; hadn't told him what happened last session, either. He was willing to give this a chance, though. If she wanted to talk about it, he would be there. Riddick watched her as they rode the shuttle to the docking bay. It didn't look like Jack was seeing anything but her past for most of the ride. A few minutes before the shuttle reached the docking bay, she appeared to come out of her stupor. It was hard to tell with Jack, sometimes.

Things were still quiet, but they also still lacked the regular tension that had been there since her episode while shopping. When they reached the ship, Jack gave him the first nonobligatory answer since last Monday.

"I'm going to my room--I need to think... I'll see you for dinner."

Riddick nodded. Not only was that nonobligatory, but it wasn't hostile. The doc must be doing something right, he supposed. Still, it was too early to tell if this turn-about was an improvement or the calm before the storm. His animal shifted restlessly, impatiently, but there was no help for it. This would be a waiting game.

In the meantime, he followed Jack up the ladder and watched her retreat to her room. Then he proceeded into the lounge and saw that Rachel was there doing homework on her com-pad. She was taking up half the couch, her head laying on the armrest facing the hallway. The mouse tilted her head back, contemplating him upside-down.

"How did it go?"

He moved over to the couch, sat by her feet, and pulled the com console closer. Big Evil began to search for ship parts--specifically, a new cockpit console. To her question, he merely shrugged.

"Too early to tell. Could be good, could be bad... She talked to me, though."

Interested, Rachel set down her com-pad and looked up at him expectantly.

"Said she'd see us at dinner."

The grey-blue eyes deadpanned at him, fiddling with her stylus, "Um, that's... that's good."

He grunted, something that Rachel figured could have multiple meanings; the redhead didn't bother trying to fish for which sentiment that conveyed. She had gleaned several things rather quickly in the beginning of their journey. One of the most apparent was that it was better not to disturb him when he was thoughtful and busy. The way he single-mindedly maintained the ship--stalking here, tweaking this, checking that, and then monitoring there--was one of those times when it was best to simply let him do his thing. _The_ _Gift of Nyx_, no matter what name they flew it under, was _his_ ship and he ran it the way he saw fit: in top condition.

Big Evil found a large list of tactically geared cockpits. He didn't like big learning curves in things of this matter. Sometimes simple worked the best. The only problem was that a cockpit with a tactical HUD and controls was simply not... _simple_. In the end, Riddick decided to return to what he knew best. His searches took him to seeking out something as close to the various fighter controls he had piloted or learned to pilot in simulators.

Obviously, he would need something that could move, target, and fire. Currently, the controls on the ship were navigational only, and needed this or that button switched to function as a firing button... Worse, targeting was nonexistent. It was good when he didn't need anything else, but the weapons they'd attached while on Daedalus would be nigh useless without a proper cockpit to control them.

In the end, he found a fairly good model. It had advanced targeting on its HUD, which contained various displays, including hull integrity, ammunitions display, and various status gauges and meters that he was used to having on a fighter ship. The steering could seamlessly switch from navigational mode to tactical maneuvering mode. A pedal replaced the typical slide-handle throttle. Also on the steering apparatus were several buttons and triggers that the pilot could assign to various weapons and controls.

Riddick examined a close-up image of the apparatus on the com. It diagrammed the set up and he was very pleased to see they'd kept most everything the same from his days of learning to pilot a fighter. The firing buttons were on the face of the double-handled, rounded W-shaped yoke. Various triggers upon the grips could control the thrusters of the ship, allowing for a greater range of maneuverability.

The HUD and controls could switch from navigational mode and tactical maneuvering mode via an assigned switch or by the manufacturer's preferred green-red toggle button at the top of the steering apparatus. Riddick nodded to himself. This was a very good model and not as expensive as other models with some of the same specifications. He purchased it and set the delivery and installation date for that coming Tuesday. A technician would be visiting them that morning with the parts. The company site warned him that the installation would take the better part of the day, so he didn't plan on going much of anywhere.

It struck the escaped convict that he would have to get Jack acclimated to the new controls, but they could do that hanging by some asteroid belt while he taught her some basic maneuvering and firing techniques. She would only need to know how to pilot--to navigate from point to point. _Tactical_ piloting would be a completely separate lesson. Maybe when she was done here, they could do that next. He was in no rush, however. The shrink probably hadn't covered even the tip of the iceberg that was Jack.

By the end of the hour, Rachel, who had been fairly quiet while doing her homework, noticed that he was done and brought him out of his musings, "I was wondering..."

"Yeah, Mouse?"

"You were Captain Brian Richards in the E-TAC group of mercenaries. From what I understood from those classified files, your Colonel sent you as the leader of the force with Lieutenant Randal as your second. He and the others abandoned you halfway to your destination. They cut some deal with the Sons of Freedom... Factually, it all makes sense." She shook her head, frowning over some unseen equation in the air. Finally, she looked back to him with a baffled expression on her face, "What I don't get is _why_ you would have signed on with a bunch of greedy mercenaries in the first place. Isn't that like--like the lobster climbing into the pot? N-no offense, but even '_hiding in plain sight_' just doesn't cut it."

He smirked at her analogy. At the time, it hadn't seemed so bad. As time progressed, however, that turned to be exactly how he felt. He leaned back and rested his head on the couch cushions, staring beyond the ceiling and into the past.

While he was gathering his thoughts, Jack finally emerged from her room. She silently padded down the hall toward the lounge. Upon seeing Rachel and Riddick in conversation, she stopped just inside the lounge and leaned against the wall to the left of the door. Rachel briefly looked at the other girl; she looked thoughtful, but not bothered. The redhead offered a little smile, which the brunette tentatively returned. It didn't last long and slowly slipped back to that thoughtful stare; Jack must be emotionally exhausted. Still, it was better than an ill-tempered Jack. Riddick's voice brought Rachel's attention back to him.

"Believe it or not, most of it was completely accidental."

"You joined mercs on accident?" she nearly exclaimed.

"No, I joined them on purpose. Never meant to stick with 'em, though," he said.

The redhead stared at him inquisitively and waited for him to expound upon that statement. She didn't have to wait long.

"I was low on cash and I didn't have a ship. I was trying to keep out of sight and didn't want to risk some ID-check on public transportation. So I had to make a few quick bucks planet-side. That's when I saw a local merc guild looking to increase their numbers. They had a big contract going up and they needed 500 men. Remember that fuckin' misleading headline, too. '_Armed escort. Applicants must have 3+ years of military experience or equivalent. Base Payment: 100,000 UDs per head, PSIVS._' I shoulda fuckin' known better."

"PSIVS?"

He grunted, "It's merc shorthand; _Possible Share Increase Via Split_. Basically means that if someone in the unit dies, his share is distributed throughout the rest of the party."

"...Oh."

"See, I figured I'd lay low in the guild, do the odd escort for some insecure, rich fuck... get paid. Simple an' easy. 'cept that's not what the Mercenary Jacks Or Better was doing. It was a bait 'n' trap for anyone looking for a quick buck. They never planned to send us out on any escorts... not civilian ones, anyhow.

"Lot of us wound up signed on for the Wars without even knowing it. Lotta pissed off mercs during the briefing--we were already locked into our contracts. I couldn't have gotten out if I wanted; woulda drawn immediate attention." Riddick shrugged in a 'what can you do' sort of way. Then he shook his head, "That's the thing, though. What d'you expect a bunch of mercs to do when they're pissed off at MercJOB and the Alliance for shoving them into a war? They'll think up ways to get out of it. Randal did."

Rachel was quiet, "You got _drafted_?"

"Sounds ludicrous, but... yeah. That's about the measure of it."

Jack snorted.

"So Randal's stunt with the Sons of Freedom royally screwed you," the redhead returned.

"Even if it was the Wailing Wars... it was supposed to be a simple mission. Extra security... a sweep-out along Waypoint 16. I coulda just cleared the way for the Marines and gotten paid easy. That's really all there was to it; all I had to do was not get shot by one o' them Sons. Then that little shit convinced all those pissed-off mercs to double-book with the Sons and the whole thing went to fuck."

Riddick paused, thought over the details before he decided to just sum up events. There were a few close calls, but with him there always were. It wasn't really anything notable. The Alliance had a few litters of kittens after they cracked his false ID. By then, the story was public and they put his name to the clusterfuck.

"...Made a _big_ splash escaping from that planet." He glanced over to Jack, "And that... is how I got MP William Johns on my tail."

Jack scrunched up her face with detestation.

Riddick had finished with his story, though. It had been a while since Jack had heard one of his tales. The street rat enjoyed hearing about him and it wasn't very often that he opened up about his past. Listening to him recount events like this put her in a good mood. Well, in as good a mood as she could find herself. She was still too mentally tired to linger on anything. Physical stress she could handle... it would distract her from her problems. That was probably why she was looking forward to tonight's spar. In the meantime, however, she wanted to start dinner--something simple, as always. Simple was still better than inedible; she had Lajjun to thank for even that much.

* * *

Alexis had just returned from a quiet happy hour at her favorite bar. It just so happened to be in the seedier part of New Mecca, but it was worth the commute. And anyone thinking her an easy victim would find that she could still throw down. Zimmy could probably teach new recruits to Spec Ops a few things. She sighed.

'_I miss those days, sometimes. Taking those eager, well-trained boys and turning them into something exceptional. Loved to watch them work together, solve problems... rely on each other._'

When Lieutenant General Zimmerman was finished with a batch of boys, every last one of them was a force to be reckoned with... and together nigh unstoppable. In those days, there was a bond; a feeling of undeniable trust and loyalty--to each other and to herself. They created cohesive unit closer than some families. She smiled. She still got letters from some of them. A few of them had families, now--others had settled down with military careers and were drilling their own troops.

'_I have to admit... we do love our work._'

Alexis comfortably settled into the couch with some popcorn to watch an action/adventure vid. She liked to scoff at the unrealistic events they can throw a single hero into and still have him come out on top of it all. For her, it was both comedy and reminiscence. She remembered her days before joining the Corps, imagining that she would be one of those kick-ass femme fatale heroines. The truth was far different, but ultimately more satisfying.

No sooner had she picked up her remote than the com made a strange sound. It _barked_ at her. She almost thought she hadn't heard it, but then the sound came again--three quick woofing noises. It had never made that sound before. As far as coms went, she kept hers Spartan; the only games on it were the factory standard ones. She didn't even load it up with a lot of her music--most of that was on her wall-mounted com-screen.

Therefore, when her smaller workstation com _barked_... she knew something was terribly off. Muttering, she tossed her remote on the coffee table, snatched her bowl of popcorn, and moved over to it. She sat down and put in her password to unlock the com unit. She stared at the screen--a standard, blank, cornflower blue background stared at her. Within a few seconds of her signing on, a blank text document opened. A line of cobalt blue text scrolled cross the screen.

#Hello.#

Alexis just sat there staring at the five letters, as though trying to divine their meaning. Finally, she shook her head and decided that she might as well respond. What was the worst that could happen?

#Hello?# her black text replied on a new line.

Moments later, the cursor returned one line on the page and the color changed back to that cool, slightly desaturated blue. The text was prompt in reply, at least. She'd never held a real-time conversation like this. Zimmy took this to mean that whatever she did on the com, it was likely that her partner in this conversation would see it.

#We should have spoken sooner, but we've both been busy--haven't we?# they asked.

"Hn," she noised and tossed a lightly salted and buttered piece of popcorn in her mouth, #You obviously seem to know better, so why ask?#

#You're being very cautious. Most days I can appreciate that. However, right now I need you to answer some questions.#

"Curiouser and curiouser," Alexis muttered. She wasn't about to just hand anything over to a hacker. That was just unwise. Whatever this person wanted couldn't be found on the Networks--that meant it had to be something she personally knew. A lot of the things she knew that other people didn't was typically classified.

#Well, that depends. Who's asking?#

Her anonymous pen pal pithily responded, #A concerned party.#

#Concerned enough to hack my com. But concerned about what?# the coach questioned.

#Concerned that you'll find what you're looking for... and that things will turn out badly if you do. I was hoping we might be able to help each other smooth things out.#

#I don't work well with nameless hackers.#

The blue text somehow managed to look petulant to the ex-Marine, #Just because I'm not identifying myself doesn't mean that I'm nameless.#

Alexis lost her patience, #Get to the point.#

Silence reigned for a moment. Just when Zimmy figured that the hacker had left, a response finally came. This time, it was back to business.

#Just what do you intend to do if you find her? You must tread very carefully with the company she keeps.#

She sat back, staring at the screen and frowning. Okay, this was getting a little serious and too close to home.

#Her?# the gym teacher questioned ambiguously.

Her com's innominate intruder continued on, #If you find her, you'll find her among friends. That could end very poorly--for everyone.#

Alexis countered the vague reply with another question of indistinct contents, #And what company is she keeping?#

#Don't ask questions when you already know the answer,# the hacker countered, and she could almost _feel_ the indignation coming off it. Then the cobalt text got down to business, #Your contacts mostly revolve around the Alliance. Her friends are quite at odds with the Alliance... but you already know that.#

The woman's brows rose. Finally, some confirmation of the topic matter. This person _did_ know what they were talking about and apparently, whatever was going on, it was important enough to spur them to contact her to avoid problems. That much was stated from the first, but who was this and why? More importantly, _how_ did the hacker know all this? Was there a hole in their security?

The hacker was still waiting on a reply, so she had to ask something. Perhaps it was time for something a little more candid...

#So you're concerned _and_ informed. How close are you to the party in question?# she typed.

#Very close.#

That was succinct. It left her with no illusions. For all the vagueness, this hacker was being very forthright. She had an idea who it might be, but the cloak-and-dagger talk was just enough for plausible deniability. Alexis didn't call them on it--_just in case_. She needed to milk this conversation for all it was worth, first.

If she wanted to get in contact with Riddick, this person was probably her best bet. If she could even get a one-on-one going with the man, _maybe_ they could cut out a good portion of this roundabout shit. It was doubtful that the man would just agree, however. As the hacker had said, he was '_at odds with the Alliance_.' So very true. It was ironic that now the Alliance was trying to reach out to a man that wanted nothing to do with them.

The double-talk was beginning to get to her, but she would persist if it got her what she wanted. There were some things they needed to clear; things that were probably the main purpose of this conversation. Zimmy was game.

#Which of her friends are you more worried about--him or her?#

There was only a short pause in the reply, #Both of them, though he is probably going to be the bigger problem. After all, _he_ is the one you need to convince.#

'_Convince Riddick?_' Zimmy wondered. She conveyed her confusion, #Convince him of...?#

The blue-themed bringer of warnings expounded, #He's dangerous because he has to be. ...Don't give him a reason to be dangerous. Understand?#

The Lieutenant General popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth, #And how should I go about that?#

#Knowledge is power, as they say. There's nothing worse than the threat of the unknown.#

This nebulous conversation was beginning annoy Zimmy; she liked straightforward answers. It was a good thing she had patience stemming from a career of teaching Special Operations assets and teaching high school girls, else she would have already given up. Before she could complain, her partner in this conversation continued.

#The more he knows about the situation, the less of a threat it is to him. Defuse the situation--defuse him. Well,# the hacker amended, #as much as that's possible.#

Alexis contemplated the hacker prospectively, #And you can deliver this information to him?#

#I can.#

Zimmy was quiet for a moment. She had to consider the pros and cons of this--handing what was technically classified information to a random, nameless person. A person who, despite cracking her supposedly secure com and possessing knowledge they probably shouldn't have, proclaimed they offered aid. Everything was currently blurry and, up until this point, nothing truly definitive had been said. She could, right now, walk away and could claim that nothing had transpired. It could save her ass if or when someone--namely the Alliance--discovered her various, _unofficial_ resources. She had gotten lucky with contracting Eve Logan and Terry Chen.

The Alliance didn't know of the letters from '_Chelsey_,' yet. She didn't know how that would go over with them. After putting a nice dent in her snack bowl, she sighed. It was time to tip her hand and pray for the best. If this worked, then she had the inside track. She began to type.

#I suppose there's no chance she can just leave them and come home...#

The answer was fairly quick and expected, #No, not at this time.#

#Will she ever?#

This gained a short pause.

#She would love to be home and she misses everyone very much, her mother especially. Right now, however, it's very important to her to be where she is. She doesn't know how long it will take, but this is something she feels she needs to do. Please understand.#

"Oh, Rachel," she muttered with a sigh. It had to be her and that almost made this worse. There was little to nothing she could offer the girl. Maybe a bit of emotional support would help...

#I will let her mother know. It also might be good if her mother could hear from her again... or at least a letter from her sister.#

There was another brief lull in the conversation, #Thank you. I'm sure that can be arranged...#

And then there was another pause, this one longer. She was about to start typing when another line of text filled the screen. Alexis decided to print this out so she could later look over it and scrutinize it for minor details she might be missing in the moment. Another piece of popcorn was devoured.

#I still need to know what you intend to do.#

'_Moment of truth,_' Alexis thought as she spelled out her plan, #There are two mercenaries I'm paying very well. They're to deliver a message and provide her passage home, if she wants. They will leave her friends alone. In fact, I have thoroughly explained to them that any violent or reckless behavior will land a price on _their_ heads. I don't expect trouble from them.#

This evoked the longest and most nerve-wracking silence of the conversation. Zimmy hoped this hadn't been the wrong thing to say. She could only imagine the reaction on the other side of this conversation.

#...Mercenaries.#

The phrase held a wealth of suspicion and distaste that Alexis could practically _feel_ emanating from the screen. Even though Rachel couldn't see it, she shrugged--then reached for another piece of pop-... Her bowl was empty. Damnit. Batting away her annoyance, she responded.

#Better two mercs kept on a short leash than sending Marines on a manhunt in the Alliance's back yard.#

The cobalt text appeared skeptical, #I see...#

The ex-Marine assuaged the girl's worries while she explicated the idea, #From what I can tell, these two are no longer interested in taking him in. They'll be monitored and I'll have regular contact with them. They won't be armed well enough to cause much damage, anyhow. It's extremely unlikely they'll be able to take anyone down--much less the likes of him--by themselves.#

#I'll have to discuss this with him,# the hacker dubiously replied, #It could take some time though. We'll talk soon regardless. ...And I'll send another letter from Chelsey.#

The gym teacher allowed herself a small smirk, #Okay. You know, you're pissing off Mr. Deckard.#

#...Maybe he should stop hindering his students and start challenging them. Bye, Mrs. Zimmerman.#

The com _barked_ at her again. She shook her head and glanced at the com's clock read 19:34. She still had time for that movie. Alexis hit the print button on the document before closing it and logging off once more. ...The Lieutenant General also required more popcorn.

* * *

Rachel peeled off her headset and yawned. It was much later on Nemaeus 4 than it was on Helion Prime. The redhead plucked her glasses off and rubbed her eyes as she stood and plodded to her room with fatigue-heavy feet. She was halfway to her room when she glanced back to the lounge; she'd left the light on and it seemed _entirely_ too far to walk.

She muttered to Rhad.

"Please repeat your last command," requested the artificial intelligence.

"Turn off the lounge lights, please," she enunciated slightly more.

The lights went out in the lounge. Crisis averted. Rachel nodded and continued to bed.

* * *

SATURDAY

It was only the _second_ hour--dead of the night, but Jack found herself standing in a large square of light, surrounded by darkness. She recognized this spotlight to be the same that she and Riddick had been using as their ring during spars; that meant she was in the workout room. But why? The green-eyed girl was annoyed with Riddick; she supposed he was the reason she was here. She was confused, to boot. Jack didn't remember coming down here in the first place.

A closer inspection of her situation and surroundings revealed an even more distressing factor: Jack was practically naked! Not completely, she still wore her panties, but the rest of her flesh was bared in its entirety. Flushing darkly, she crossed her arms over her breasts and tucked in on herself just slightly. The brunette glanced around nervously. This wasn't good--she knew she wouldn't have come here like this. So why was she? The incongruous answer repeated itself: Riddick was probably the reason she was here. Like this.

As if to confirm her thoughts, a bass voice rolled out from the darkness like thunder. It wasn't frightening, but familiar... Unfortunately, at the moment, it was also annoying.

"Won't be defending shit standing like that."

She jumped at the voice, surprised more at its location _behind_ her than its presence at all. Jack turned indignantly and stared into the darkness. Riddick's massive form seemed to morph in from their inky surroundings. He was fully clothed and ready to rumble.

She glared at him, "You can't _seriously_ expect me to spar with you like this!"

He shrugged and responded apathetically, "It's up to you, but you're gonna be pretty roughed up in the next few minutes if you don't."

"I don't believe this-"

And then he was lunging at her! Jack danced away. He turned to her and his leg came blasting at her head. She ducked it and rolled to the side--much harder to do when she wasn't using her arms. The next punch she sidestepped and hopped out of his range. This continued for another few strikes, but it was taxing to keep dodging his quick and powerful attacks while keeping her modesty.

Eventually, it became apparent to her that there was no way to avoid him completely _and_ keep herself covered. Weighing that modesty against Riddick's typical punishment of exposed weakness, it was a no-brainer. She would just have to push past her mortification.

'_Goddamnit..._'

Unfortunately, it was too late to mount much of a defense. The moment she went on the offensive, Riddick shot for her legs and took her to the ground. Now on her back, she tried a few of the more effective strikes he had taught her, hoping to fight him off her before the situation became irreversibly unsalvageable. Riddick, however, was far too good at what he did and overcame her meager attempts. After blocking most of them, he finally managed to snare her wrists and pin them above her head with his superior strength.

From his position, he leaned up and leered at her, "Well?"

She continued to glare at him, "Well, _what_? You can't expect me to head butt you; we never do that. So let me go."

She could feel his gaze upon her--_all_ of her--and her face, already flushed with exertion, began to blaze in a return of that forgotten mortification. The strength of its reappearance left the girl's ears and face burning so hotly she could feel it working down her neck. It was times like this that she was glad he wasn't able to see color. Damnit, she could almost _feel_ his eyes trailing over her; waiting, expectant.

Jack squirmed and struggled in his grip, but she might as well have been shackled to the floor. She knew that moving as she was wouldn't do anything, but it was all she could do. He had her locked in a position where all her maneuverability was nullified. She strained a bit, but her strength simply could not match his. Suddenly, a chuckle rumbled out of him and she could feel it wash over her; it sent shivers down her spine.

"I'm not letting you go until you get me off."

Jack blinked and stared in stunned silence.

"W-_what_?"

"You'll have to figure out how to get yourself free," he explained, "Gotta learn how to get out of those tight spots."

Jack felt her embarrassment double. _Oh_... of course that's what he meant. Simultaneously, she frowned in consternation. After more meager and futile struggles and writhing about on the floor to no effect, she could feel her energy waning. Huffing in acute embarrassment and frustration, she took a moment to consider her situation. It was difficult, because all she could think about was Riddick's quicksilver eyes and how they were _roaming_ her exposed figure.

The green-eyed girl knew she had to push him off her. The only free limbs she had were her legs. She shifted one leg, straightening it out. Without warning, Big Evil was twisting his hips and shifting his own legs. She realized that he would move out of her guard, pass it completely and gain side control... or worse, mount her. Jack quickly shifted her hips up, bucking into his waist and twisting to prevent him from swinging a leg over one of hers. Half-guard would be even more dangerous, at the moment.

She tried to ignore the feeling of his body, even clothed, against her bare thighs and stomach. This wasn't working. The brunette knew that he could out-maneuver and overpower her any day of the week. The answer couldn't be in positioning; that had almost landed her in a world of trouble just seconds ago. Jack realized that she was not as strong as him, but she was probably strong enough to lift his body if she really pushed against him. She would have to get her feet on him, though.

Ignoring her embarrassment as best she could, she looked down her body and his, taking in how they were positioned and what she could do. There were only a few ways to get her feet on him--and even fewer places for her to put them--that would be effective enough to dislodge Riddick. If there were only a few good ways, then he probably knew them all. Even so, she had to try something!

Suddenly, Jack pulled her legs to her chest and curled in on herself. If she could just put the soles of her feet on his thighs (or better, his stomach), she might be able to shove him off her. It would be draining to use that much strength, but it was better than remaining pinned. However, the moment she pulled her legs up, Riddick lurched forward. His body, still between her legs, created a shocking and delectable friction that sent startled pleasure surging up her arching spine and radiating throughout her body. Jack _gasped_...

* * *

...and panted as she sat up in tangled sheets, at once dismayed and shaken to her very core. Jack was sweating heavily and her entire body felt like a furnace. Upon seeing her room, the girl slowly came to her senses and the fog of confusion lifted; she was in her room. She blinked into the darkness and took a long, shuddering breath. It didn't help much. Jack groaned, flopped onto her side, and curled into a ball. Her breathing was still slightly labored and her whole body was trembling and jittery with flustered energy. It would be a long while until her body calmed down enough for her to nod off, to catch what hours remained until the start of her day. Nevertheless, she had to try.

"H-_holy shit_..."

* * *

Around tenth hour, Kiara was preparing for the day. Her weekend schedule was later because she would be seeing them through the night instead of most of the day. Friday schedules were wonky, but they allowed her to get enough sleep for the weekend shift-switch. She didn't have to be at _Marian's_ until about fourteenth hour and her shift wouldn't end until the twenty-fourth. After that, Marian would take over the graveyard shift from twenty-fifth through fifth hour. The brothel was closed from 05:00 until 14:00 on the weekends.

Before any of this could happen, however, she had a few things she needed to do around the Corridor. She made sure that Pan had gotten her breakfast and had, indeed, started her home-schooling lessons that Mike and Jessie managed to hack from one of Nemaeus 4's middle schools. Then the ex-social worker stopped in briefly to check on Micah and Sebastian.

It had been nearly a month since they'd started him on the Nano-Meds. Sebastian was convalescing well and was mobile, if a little weak at times. Even so, his mind was still sharp and he was keeping an eye on things as he had done before the Zolus jumped him. The screaming pains that used to race through him now only came in mild shudders and shaky hands. In another week, they would take him off the Nano-Meds and muscle relaxant; the analgesics were likely going to continue a few weeks following that...

Sebastian was sitting on the edge of his cot, sipping coffee. These days, he needed the energy the caffeine provided him. He offered her a smile as she peeked her head past the curtain dividing the cots from the rest of the bustle of the Corridor. She gave him a smile and a nod back. It would be good to have fewer duties when Sebastian got better--she couldn't hold this job and see to everything in the Corridor. Between Micah and herself, they made it work, but they had still been doing duties and a half for almost two months.

When she turned around, she almost bumped into Tyler--who was standing behind her almost expectantly. He was a quiet boy, but he looked after Robbie and Veronica well. He was a veritable pit bull... quiet until someone threatened those two. She supposed it came from looking after them at the orphanage, saving them from the bullies.

"Oh!" Kiara quickly recovered, "Tyler, what'd you need?"

"Well, I figured... you have the night-shift on the weekends. I was wondering if I could cook dinner for you and the other girls. You said how Marian breaks for a meal--and how she breaks for the mid-workday meal. ...We don't usually have much chance to-"

Kiara smiled, "That would be fine. I'm sure the girls would love to have a good meal. What were you thinking of?"

"Maybe a teriyaki stir-fry. I know I can get the sauce from a vendor on Deck 4. All I'd need is some chicken, some vegetables, rice..." Tyler trailed off, obviously already thinking over the recipe and what little things he could do to spice it up.

The woman nodded, "That would be fine. They'll probably break for meal around eighteenth. If you could show up an hour before, it would probably give you the time you need."

He grinned and moved off--she'd likely made his day. Maybe she could institute a cooking day for him every weekend. It would give him a goal and give him something to look forward to during the long weekdays. Keeping up morale was part of her job, after all.

With everyone else settled, she decided to take care of the more pressing business. That mercenary that visited _Marian's_ on Wednesday was still nosing around. She needed to speak with Riddick. If it were just Riddick, she wasn't sure she would have bothered... but he was important to Jack and the young woman was with Riddick. That made it imperative that he know of possible threats to him. It was important because she knew that whatever situation Riddick wound up in, she'd find Jack right there beside him--knee-deep in the exact same trouble.

To this end, she moved over to the twins. As usual, the sibling hackers were already at the com, looking at one thing or another. They looked for places where they could get things free or demand reimbursement for false orders. She knew they didn't like conning money from people, but when times were thin, there was little other option. Right now, they didn't seem to be working on any projects. Best to get to them now before they became busy.

"Hey, you two. Can you do me a favor?"

They both looked up with identical expressions of mild curiosity. The similarities ended after their appearances, though. Mike was a bit of a schemer when it came to jobs--he had less of a moral dilemma when they had to hack funds for them. Jessie was the one that was more contemplative; she bordered on ruminating her thoughts, sometimes. They often argued over the ethical nature of their activities. Kiara let them. It distracted Jessie and kept her from getting depressed. Mike... well, he just liked the verbal fencing matches.

Jessie took the initiative to ask for the both of them, "What'd you need?"

"I need you to contact Rachel for me. It's very important--I need to get a message to Rick as soon as possible."

"She gave us her secure message box; we can send it to her... tab it 'urgent.' What's it about?" asked Mike.

"I told you about that upset at _Marian's_? Well, that man was looking for Rick," she admitted, "I need to tell him so he can keep Jack and Rachel out of trouble."

"Knew it. Micah and I were talkin' about it. Aeacus of Cerberus and Jack Badd running around with a simple trader? Doesn't pan out. And the way the big guy handled himself... Who does that so... _effortlessly_, y'know? Still tryin' to figure it out."

'_Of course he and Micah would be swapping theories..._' thought Kiara with a chagrined inner sigh, "It doesn't really matter who he is, so long as he's looking after Jack--and Rachel."

Jessie stared at her as though she suspected Kiara knew more... and the woman would be correct. However, she didn't press it. Mike had already lost interest and was opening up a messaging program to contact Rachel. He put in a few pertinent lines about needing to speak to Rick about someone looking for him, but deliberately left it vague--it would ensure nothing too personal was sniffed out in cyberspace.

Kiara nodded, thanked them both, and left them to their own devices. About 15 minutes later, the twins gave nigh identical shocked exclamations. She headed back into the little niche that they'd claimed as their electronics workshop to see what the commotion was.

"We've got a breach!"

"I _see_ that, Jess. Where's it coming from?" he demanded.

Jessie's frantic typing could be heard, "Someone's piggy-backing on our connection to the server! Shit--they're in..."

She watched as a small window opened; it was a vid feed. A little blue light atop the com-screen turned on--it was the com's vid-recorder. Kiara got the distinct impression that it should not be turning on of its own volition...

The rectangular vid feed went from black to a warped, slightly static-filled picture, which then resolved into an alert, intense-looking redhead. It was Rachel, and the girl wasted no time in getting down to business.

"What's this about someone looking for Rick?"

"You just breezed by all our security like it wasn't even _there_..." Mike muttered.

Rachel blinked at him for a moment, and then seems to regain some of her humanity. In lieu of the machine-like demand she had made, the young woman glanced to the wall-mounted com. She supposed she had reacted rather forcefully.

"I'm sorry, but I imagined that it was an emergency when the message was tagged Urgent. ...It still might be. People looking for Rick are rarely a good thing--we try not to attract any attention."

"Looking for Rick?" someone asked from off-screen. Then Jack--carrying a protein-energy bar--was standing beside Rachel. She first stared at the com, and then the camera focused on them. The brunette's eyes were piercing and focused on the three on the wall-mounted com, "Mercs on Daedalus?"

"Yes. It's not an emergency--not yet, I don't think," answered Kiara, whom the twins made room so she could fit in view as well, "It's just one... and he's still here--somewhere. Probably not on this Deck. Is Rick there?"

Rachel turned to Jack, "I think he's down in the workout room fiddling with the equipment in there for one thing or another. Could you go get him?"

Jack's response to the request was an interesting one; she flushed a dark red and stared off into space for several moments. She jerked when Rachel put a hand on her arm. The genius raised a brow and canted her head to the side. It was then that Rachel wondered when she began picking up those sorts of non-verbal cues from her two traveling companions. Jack shook her head--the equivalent of a 'never mind' and left. Rachel watched her go, wondering what that was all about...

As they waited, Jessie commented, "I hear congratulations are in order."

"Eh?" the mousy girl noised intelligently.

"Those guys--Knights of something or other..."

Rachel's mouth made an 'O' of understanding before she managed a reply, "_Oh_. Yes, C4sper told me to keep an eye on the news nets about that. Sentry went through all my information on them and he says they'll definitely have enough for a conviction! They even cleared my name off the whole event, just as they promised. ...Did you hear about the new security measures?"

"Yeah, seems like Sentry is overhauling security on that bank."

"Uh-huh--and they're gonna use _my_ program to do it!" Rachel enthused.

"Your program?" Mike queried confusedly.

"I didn't want someone cracking open the bank again. So I designed this optional security upgrade using DNA-encoding script. It does a value check... and since it's so impractical to run through the trillions of combinations to match the correct DNA value, it's unlikely anyone could find the right value before the account locked down and notified the bank and the owner!"

"Sounds tight," admitted Jessie, "So this encoding can prevent another cyber-heist?"

"Well, there's always the possibility that an account will be cracked. But now there's no databank of passwords, codes, or anything to access; every account carries out its own value check. That also means that, even if you manage to hack _one_ account, you'll have to do it all over again for another and the next and so on...

"It took a while to make it compatible with most software, but I'm pretty sure it's solid on any OS. ...That reminds me, I still gotta contact the bank in a little while and let 'em know I'm gonna check it. If the boys and I can't crack it, it's unfeasible that someone would put so much effort into cracking a single account."

"Color me impressed," Mike said.

Rachel smiled.

Jack returned after that, Riddick right behind her. Whatever he had been working on in the workout room could wait. Mercs on their tail definitely took precedence. On Kiara's end, they watched as Rachel slid over and Riddick's large frame filled most of the picture. He didn't even bother greeting them.

"Tell me everything."

Kiara expected his gruff nature and didn't let herself get riled by it, "On Wednesday, a mercenary went flashing around a bounty card for you at the brothels. When he came to _Marian's_, he was all but threatening Zoe. He was also offering a hundred UDs for any information on you. She was closer and got a really good look at him--I can give you a description. So far, we only know his name is 'Toombs.' He was about six-foot-"

"We've met," he interrupted.

"Who is he?" Jack asked.

Riddick shook his head, "Asshole that got lucky. Picked up a signal from that Rich Bitch's jumper. All he had was a general heading and I'd just dusted my tracks. His logs said he still spent the next four years tracking me down along that route. Persistent little shit.

"While I was on that frozen planet, the jumper fell down a crevasse during a glacial shift. I figured I was stuck on the planet. Damage musta set off the emergency beacon or something, though. Thankfully Toombs was there with a four-man crew to lend me their skiff."

"Lent it to you?" Kiara inquired. She didn't think he meant that literally...

"Threw Toombs out of his shitty, little undercutter. The other corpses in the snow didn't protest. So I took it."

Kiara pinched and rubbed the bridge of her nose in annoyance, but didn't dignify that with a response.

"Kept everything useful I found, sold the rest. Ship itself was practically useless; couldn't've sold the damn thing for a profit. Refueled using the money from the shit I sold and blew that sector of space. Headed to Helion Prime to check on you--make sure the mercs hadn't gotten wise and checked for the _H-G_'s roster and found Imam well and alive. Ditched the undercutter in the Dengali River. Honestly figured Toombs was a popsicle by then..."

Jack tried to piece it together in her head, "So the mercs that came to New Mecca...?"

"Toombs latest crew," he said with a nod.

The street rat squinted, "...How did he get off the-"

Riddick shrugged articulately.

"He doesn't appear to have another crew," Kiara put in, "It was just him wandering around the upper and lower decks for the past few days. Zoe's boyfriend, Ben, is a Zolus. After Toombs threatened her, he reported him to the Commanders. Zoe told me Ben said they're probably going to pressure Station Security to see him off the station soon... In the next couple of days, security should be asking him to leave if he won't pay for a place to stay; say he's taking up docking space or something.

"Rick, if that happens, he might be headed planet-side."

The escaped con shook his head, "Don't think so. Daedalus is a quick-stop. Most people only stop there to refuel and get on their way. He wouldn't want to waste time coming down here 'less he felt there was a chance he'd find me. Still, it ain't worth takin' chances... There anything else?"

Kiara shook her head. That was pretty much everything important. He canted his head to the side just slightly and seemed to be contemplating something--however briefly. The question wasn't long in coming.

"Said this workin' girl saw the card. I gotta worry about anyone there spilling?"

Again, Kiara shook her head, "No, we don't want any kind of trouble. Most people on Daedalus won't even look at the bounty cards. People labeled as 'rats' have a habit of disappearing around here..."

Big Evil grunted his acknowledgment.

Then he had one last question, "She see the price?"

"Yes, but none of the girls would-"

"What's the figure, now?"

Jack snorted--_almost_ incredulously, "Egoist, you just like to hear your own press!"

Riddick gave another multipurpose shrug. Jack gave him a deadpan look and he calmly met her gaze. Moments later, she glanced away while blushing. Rachel was beginning to wonder what was wrong with the other girl.

Kiara sighed when she noticed he hadn't budged from his position. He was still waiting on an answer, so the question wasn't in jest. Maybe Jack was right... If that were the case, this was sure to swell that ego, "Zoe said 1,126,000 UDs."

The smirk was almost nonexistent, but it was telling. He loved it. Then the expression was gone and he stood up. Their conversation was apparently at an end.

"I'm gonna set up some security just in case Toombs gets it in his head to drop down. Be back in half an hour... hour tops." Jack nodded, but didn't meet his eyes. Riddick misunderstood her expression and put a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a slight smirk that she knew was supposed to be mollifying, "Don't bother yourself with Toombs. I can deal with him."

She forced herself to meet his eyes and ignored the blush that came with meeting his quicksilver eyes, "I know."

He seemed satisfied and moved for the side exit. Riddick was still going down the steps when the door quietly hissed shut behind him. Jack continued to stare at the door. Rachel and Kiara seemed curious, but Kiara tactfully ignored it. After all, the woman had something else to accomplish with this call.

"Well, it looks like you have a handle on everything there. It's good we don't have to worry anymore. I have enough worries here, as it is. Thankfully, things are getting better. And on that note... there's someone who wants to talk to you, Jack."

Jack tilted her head to the side in a very Riddick-esque manner. Kiara moved away from the camera for a few moments.

"Nice hearing from you again, Jack," said Mike.

Jack smiled, "We'll keep in touch. We can send messages and the like when I'm not busy."

"You bet," agreed Jessie.

And then the twins looked to see Kiara approaching again and vacated their seats.

A tall man made his way to the loveseat-sized couch with Kiara at his arm to keep him steady and provide support. He was about 24 and, even weak, did not look unfit. It was Sebastian, the leader of their little Daedalus gang. His dirty blonde hair was roughly in order, if a little shaggy. It had always been that way. His brown eyes regarded her intently--the way they had for years. She hadn't seen much of them when she was with him on Daedalus since he was almost always asleep, resting off the Rush that the Zolus thugs had pushed into his body. Seeing them now was a great relief and lifted her spirits considerably.

She beamed at the com-screen, "Sebastian!"

The man managed a tired smile, "Hey, Squirt."

Rachel smiled and moved back to the couch. Picking up her com-pad, she quietly retreated to her room to give the two some privacy. She'd just check for assignments while Jack was talking with Sebastian. The redhead had a feeling that talking to him would be good for the brunette.

"You're looking better... I was worried for a while."

Sebastian nodded, "Yeah, me, too. I still get some shakes and pains, but that stuff you gave me is keepin' it manageable. Should be fine in a few weeks, thanks to you."

"I had to do _something_. No way I'd leave you hangin' on the edge like that."

He shrugged. It didn't really matter.

"None of us could have afforded the stuff you brought. You always were resourceful, Squirt. Managed to keep yourself alive and thrivin'. It's good to hear you got someone lookin' out for ya. This universe is a bad place to be alone."

"Don't I know it," she half-muttered, then regarded him quietly, "You look a little older, now... more mature."

"And you're not Squirt anymore, either," he said with a small grin, "You've grown up nice."

Jack shrugged self-consciously, "Guess so..."

"I know so."

In the following silence, Sebastian decided to let her off the hook about it, but didn't completely change his topic.

"So... how are things between you and the big guy?"

Jack blinked at him, off guard, "Things're okay..."

"Just okay? I seem to remember you saying something about him being denser than the station's hull--and somethin' 'bout his goggles acting like '_blinders on a voracious Nemaean anteater_.'"

Jack felt her face heat up.

"I thought you were asleep!"

He gave another off-hand shrug, "I was for some of it. The rest of the time... When it hurt to talk--much less move--I would just lay there and save my strength for when I needed it. 'sides, you seemed to have a lot on your mind, so I figured it'd be good to let you vent."

"Uhm... about that-"

"Hey," Sebastian forestalled her, "you could do a lot worse. He keeps you safe, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he cares for you. You know that."

"Yeah..."

He gave her that same smile--still tired, but completely genuine, "So don't worry. Guys like him are too smart to pass up opportunities when they really matter."

"I've given him _plenty_ of opportunities!" she retorted.

"..."

Sebastian's sudden silence said volumes. Jack turned an impressive shade of red. She could feel the flush intensifying the longer she remained quiet. The street rat rushed to clarify.

"I-... I mean, not like _that_. It's just... he should realize I'm not a kid, anymore! Other people notice..."

"Most o' those other people aren't lookin' at you as a person. Give 'im a little more credit. You keep at it, he'll come around. Got my word on that."

Jack's blush was receding and she nodded, a tad more solemnly, "I'm tryin'. Right now, there's not much to do about it. I got a plan, though... it'll just take time."

'_Jack plannin' shit. God help us all. That man is gonna be hit _hard_... like a freighter landin' on a crash-pad,_' Sebastian thought with a wry smirk, "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," she half-muttered again.

He glanced off to the side and noticed Kiara motioning to him. He nodded to her and turned back to the com-screen, "I'm s'pposed to be exercising. Get my muscles used to more motion 'n' shit."

Jack nodded, "Alright. You take care of yourself. We'll talk more later."

Sebastian smiled and slowly stood up. Kiara was by him and helped him out of the twin's workshop. When he was out of sight, Jack switched off the vid-call. She strolled over to the couch and flopped into it with a sigh. It had been a while since she had so much support.

The only way she could feel any better would be if Imam had a com they could contact. Unfortunately, the only com he had was for news and business messages for the Helion Council. It was likely bugged and monitored by the Alliance, by now. There was no way to contact him without all the contents of the message being open to the very people trying to track them down and lock them up.

* * *

It was bright outside. The dull metal of the structures in the docking bay flared in his vision as blocks of light; lifeless, reflective surfaces stuck in the gigantic grid of concrete and asphalt. Even the ground seemed to bounce the harsh sun off its rough planes. Above the architectural mass of geometric uniformity, the ever-swirling sand glittered like a billion, tiny, broken mirrors. They blew in the unpredictable winds that carved fluid and random paths of erratic light in the air. The glinting patterns of the sand provided an antithesis to the straight lines of Nemaeus 4's docking bay.

Cumulatively, the brightness was almost too much, even for his goggle-covered eyes. Riddick turned his eyes from the horizon and headed for the shuttle stop. It didn't take long for the hover-transport to reach him. The escaped convict didn't bother attempting to admire the scenery through the dingy window of the vehicle since everything just seemed to bore unwelcomingly into his argent eyes. Even so, he paid attention to his surroundings. They might not hold any interest, but they could hold danger.

While most people simply stared blankly at their surroundings and others during the ride, he scrutinized them and evaluated the route and the stores they passed. Knowing what was where might come in handy if, or when, there was trouble. By now, it was second nature to him to view things in terms of assets and hindrances. For a long while, that's all there had been: Riddick, assets, and hindrances. People's personalities were simply exploitable weaknesses--all he had to do was pick apart their psyche to get at the information he wanted. The people themselves were tools of flesh and bone; complicated machines he could manipulate to do as he desired. Everything was a means to an end.

Carolyn and Jack had changed that in him... at least slightly. He had no affiliations with most of the people that went on about their lives. They were still just assets and hindrances. There were only a few people he would hesitate, would even give pause or resistance in ruthlessly using them for all they could give him. Of course, there was Imam and Jack... they had wormed their way under his skin a while ago, much like Rachel was slowly squeezing into his life now. He imagined it was something like how a family worked. He'd never had a family. The orphanage where he grew up wasn't a family. It was just a pack of rats; everyone clawing at the world to find some sort of purchase--to get out and get free.

Riddick had always been about freedom. He disliked restraints and hated to be held back. When he was first incarcerated for blowing the whistle on Sigma 3, he finally came to understand just how much he hated having his freedom taken away from him. He went on to become the Big Evil, becoming as efficient and ruthless as was necessary for almost any situation. Much as he loathed it, he realized that Johns had played a part in his change, as well. Until that fucker, he never realized that he could fall _deeper_ into that pit of inhumanity. There was a level of apathy and cruelty out there far greater than his... and he would never fall prey to it.

The change in the style of shops around him brought him from his passive scanning and contemplations. They were approaching the market district; its stop was next. That was where he wanted to be. There were precautions to make for Toombs. He honestly didn't think the asshole would waste the time, but he didn't think Toombs would survive U.V. 6, either. This time he was covering his bases. Riddick stepped off the shuttle and casually surveyed the area as he walked.

Big Evil specifically looked for the darker, narrow alleys--the ones that would host a variety of individuals full of desperations... of opportunity. After about three blocks of various eateries, he saw it. A narrow backstreet with a person just inside its mouth. It was so close that no vehicles could possibly fit without wedging themselves a quarter of the way in.

Its occupant was a boy in ratty clothes which spoke of a harder life than those around him. The material of his worn grey shirt was long ago blasted by sand and dirt until it was closer to a tan. The sleeves were ratty, as was the collar. His pants were likewise faded; had probably once been black, but were now a dark grey with near white knees. He had very light brown hair... looked to be of Asian descent. His honey-hued eyes did a constant flick, flick, flick every few moments. Mouth set in a firm line, the boy wasn't just admiring the view--there was a purpose.

Most people ignored him or didn't even notice him. Riddick supposed that was why, when his somewhat conspicuous form was noticed, they locked gazes for several seconds. He stared straight at the goggles, no hint of intimidation, but suspicion bordered on paranoia. This one wasn't new to the street.

As Riddick came within about twenty yards of the mouth, the boy casually turned and wandered into the darkness of the alley. It might have seemed nonchalant, but it was a retreat; the boy would hide or run. Unfortunately, he was Riddick's current target until someone better came along--that meant there was no hiding. The large, bald man entered the alley and paused just within its mouth. It was cooler inside, and the reprieve from the sunny glare was palpable as it was reduced to dusk proportions. Further in, it would be dark as night.

Hands went up to the goggles and slowly lifted them from bright, cold-steel eyes. Riddick wandered into the darkness, found himself comforted and invigorated...

The boy was crouched atop a dumpster. There was no strong stench from it; it had probably been emptied long ago and never filled again--perhaps even relocated by someone to keep it out of the way, then forgotten. The smell of the alley was surprisingly clean. In fact, the normal detritus streets accumulate were mostly void in the alley. Someone did housecleaning here; it spoke to the man that this was _home_ to somebody.

As Riddick neared, the boy hopped down behind the dumpster... and was gone. He didn't hear the boy land--that was surprisingly stealthy. Kid had promise. For what, Riddick didn't contemplate, but the kid was capable. This little street rat appeared to be about 12, but such a skill took years of practice. As he neared the dumpster, he saw that this wasn't just a straight-through alleyway nearly blocked halfway in by the dumpster. He might have been able to _just_ squeeze through the gap on the left if he turned sideways; he could get to the other side of the alley, but his attention was focused on what the darkness hid.

The building making up the left wall of this alley was large enough to reach from one street to the other. The right wall was made up of two buildings put back to back... but they weren't flush. Between these two edifices was a dead-end only about four and a half feet, but it was extremely well hidden with the dumpster in front of it. It was so dark back here that, were it not for his shine-job, he could have stared directly at it and missed it. The boy was in the dead end--it was probably his hideaway and home.

Riddick hopped atop the dumpster, making a dull, bass drum noise when his boots thumped atop them. Here he paused, just staring into the cul-de-sac. The boy had already retreated the farthest he could into the alley. Riddick saw a mass of blankets and a pillow, even a few tools and such in the alley. There were three plastic crates and a sheet of metal forming a table. Plugged into one of the walls was a small lamp and a heater--probably leeching juice off the shop facing the other street. In all, the kid had a pretty good setup. Safely hidden, heated, and private.

The kid was also holding a metal pipe about two and a half feet long, but couldn't really see where the escaped convict was. Then again, in a narrow alley like this, all he needed to do was run forward swinging to get lucky.

"Won't be needing that," he rumbled and saw the kid silently start. "Got a job for ya. Need some eyes around the market--lookin' for a guy. Pay ya 200 UDs to keep an eye out for a couple o' weeks. He offers more than I do, I'll double his price."

He paused to let it sink into the street rat's head. The kid didn't move, didn't even make a noise. Riddick couldn't even hear his breathing. However, the frown on his face said that he was at least paying attention to what the escaped convict was saying.

"If you're interested, meet me at the 4th Street end."

With that, he turned around and silently moved back to the dumpster. Again, the only noise he made was when he hopped on it. The rest of his movements were as quiet as the boy's. After all, Riddick had been doing it longer and better than most people he could name.

He never heard the kid approach. That was something that didn't happen often. It was more of a sense--an animal thing--that told him he wasn't alone. Riddick glanced behind him and nodded once to the kid. The boy was wary, but he was willing to listen. Instead of jumping right to it, he decided to see if he could put the kid at ease. After all, the less edgy Big Evil's informant was, the more information he could get out of the street rat.

"Got a name?"

"People 'round here call me Urchin."

"Richard," Riddick offered. Names were given; that amount of trust was about as far as either was willing to go for now, "This guy's lookin' for me. An' I don't wanna be found. He's a piece of work; blessed with more balls than brains, but he ain't stupid. Just greedy. Chances are he's alone. If he ain't, I need to know how many he's got with 'im.

"He's gonna be offerin' money for me, too. Last I heard, he wanted 100 UDs for what people could tell 'im. I got 200 for ya--and if he's offering two, then I'll offer four. Like I said, any offer he gives, I'll double."

"This guy have a name? I got eyes _and_ ears," Urchin offered.

The large man couldn't help but smirk, "Yeah. Name's Toombs. He probably won't be able to stop himself from telling everyone."

The kid snorted.

"So... you said a couple weeks?"

"If he's not showin' his mug by three, he ain't showin' it at all."

Urchin nodded, "Yeah, I could do that. So... two-hundred UDs--for three weeks' watch, huh?"

"Yeah."

The boy was quiet for a moment as he thought it over. Good kid. Never take anything at face value, always read between the lines, weigh the pros and cons. Nice rules to live by. He could see Urchin coming to some sort of decision.

"Throw in lunch an' ya got a deal."

Someone willing to bargain for more, too, Riddick realized. Definitely a survivor. He admired that in a person. The escaped convict contemplated it only briefly.

"Sure," he said.

Then a hover-transport, its metallic body gleaming in the daylight, hummed down the road. The reflection of the light beamed into the alley, briefly illuminating it. Riddick turned his face away from the light, resisting the urge to wince at the sudden intrusion. What was it with him and winding up on bright, fucking planets?

The suspicion was void from the boy's sudden interjection, "Where the Hell can I get eyes like that?"

Riddick considered his options in answering such a question. Last time he'd given someone an answer, they wound up imitating him. Even shaved their head. He didn't doubt Jack ignored his lethal nature... his willingness to kill if he felt it was necessary--or just easier. Ziza didn't know better and developed some kind of hero worship in the short time she was around him, but Jack was old enough to understand just how dangerous he was on the dark planet.

That moment, when he first acknowledged Jack, was probably what spurred her on. If he had ignored her or just told her off, she probably wouldn't have latched onto him as she had. Now that she had, she was nigh impossible to shake. He wasn't sure he wanted to shake free of her. Even so, he didn't need another. That was why he didn't answer the same as he had on that God-forsaken planet...

Well... that, and he wasn't trying to pick anyone's head.

"No place you should bother being."

Urchin seemed to get the idea that it wasn't something Riddick would answer and all but shrugged it off.

"So this Toombs-guy..."

Riddick nodded. It was back to business.

"He's about my height, but lankier. Likes to smoke. Kinda scraggly lookin'... ..."

* * *

Meanwhile, Jack laid indolently upon the couch aboard the _Gift of Nyx_, currently under its own alias as the _Spirit of Langavat_. She could have been working on her homework, but she didn't feel like it. Instead, she remained relaxed in a state of semi-consciousness--not quite asleep, but not totally aware of everything, either. Her thoughts drifted about the conversation and the people she'd met and known over the course of her life. Some she'd left, some she'd lost.

While there was nothing to do for those who were dead, she could reach out to some of the ones who were merely far away. Maybe not everyone, granted--everyone on Helion Prime seemed out of her reach now. The others were on Daedalus. Overall, there were only a few people, but those few were important to her. She would probably find time to send messages or something every week or so to the twins so they could let everyone know how she was. Rachel could show her how to set that up.

Talking to Sebastian was wonderful after all this time. He was a good man, a good leader. And he was strangely insightful. She couldn't believe he had been listening to her most of that time when she was just rambling on. Jack couldn't even remember everything she'd said... but some of it was very personal. She wouldn't have mentioned half of it if she thought he'd hear it, much less remember it! Now that she considered most of the things she _did_ remember saying, she was probably in for a bit of teasing for quite a while.

His reassurances, however, were bolstering. He accepted Riddick and even thought it would work. Jack was still unsure. Obviously, she wanted him... but could she have him? Even if her plan worked out, there was no guarantee that anything would ever develop between them. Sebastian seemed to think that Riddick would come around. Sebastian was rarely ever wrong.

Thinking about a relationship with Riddick made her mind meander to her dreams. Many of them had to do with places she'd been, things she'd done recently. It was understandable that her mind would mix it all together and hand her awkward scenarios. Still, her subconscious was an evil bitch. That last dream was proof enough!

Something trickled into her awareness, and her senses spread outward, once more became aware of the world at large. Jack's eyes blinked open and she saw Rachel approaching... She gave a lazy yawn and sat up. That was when she noticed that Rachel had her com-pad. When the redhead offered it to her, the street rat stared at it blankly for a few seconds.

"Homework."

"Mn," Jack noised.

Rachel took the cushion beside her, "Jack... you've been acting strangely around Riddick recently. Is there something wrong?"

"_No_!" she said, her voice pitching high. She quickly cleared her throat, "Er... no... I just... haven't been sleeping well, is all."

The mousy girl regarded Jack quietly, then asked, "Nightmares?"

Her mind still fresh on the topic of her dreams, the street rat felt her face heat.

"..."

The genius grinned, "_Oh_... Something better, huh?"

Jack groaned in mortification, standing up from the couch before her face set it on fire. She shook her head to rid it of all the thoughts that wouldn't leave her head, of late.

"This conversation didn't happen," Jack muttered, then turned on heel and went to her room.

Rachel smiled and shook her head.

* * *

Only a few minutes after Jack left, almost eleventh hour on the dot, the side exit door of the _Spirit of Langavat_ opened and Riddick entered. The escaped convict had shelled out a few UDs for Urchin to grab a meal from a fast-food joint. They'd agreed on that as place to meet and lunchtime as their check-in time. He'd meet with the kid daily to check on the situation. The restaurant where they were meeting had cheap food, so a few UDs over the next three weeks and 200 UDs wouldn't create that large of a dent in his account.

Riddick turned and headed for the stairs that led to the lower deck. He was halfway there when his animal shifted _just_ slightly. Pausing with his hand on the banister, he slowly turned his head to look at the couch. Rachel was sitting sideways along it as she sometimes did, her back at the arm of it. She was staring at him, her glasses catching the light and gleaming ominously at him. There was a small, mysterious smile on her face.

"What."

She shook her head, "Nothing. ...Nothing."

The answer came far too quickly and she disregarded him too easily, instead focusing upon the com-pad in her hands. The smile bordered on a smirk, now.

'_This cannot end well,_' he mentally grumbled to himself as he headed for the workout room to finish his maintenance.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I'm pretty sure that the reason this took so long to finish was because I planned everything. I typically have a few scenes loosely linked together in my head, maybe a few lines of dialogue... maybe _one_ or _two_ scenes fully planned out... but this one had everything filled in. Maybe that locked in feeling made me feel restricted and urged me to procrastinate and, at times, confused me on how I wanted to add in all the little things I usually do while writing along. I won't be planning further chapters, I think.

On the up side, I've reached over 400 pages and the story sits at 222,602 words! That doesn't include author's notes. Think it's long now? Just wait 'til I'm done!

Even having this chapter planned, I didn't get through all of it. This is only two-thirds of the planning I've done and there's still that one-third that will become the start of Chapter 24. Even though this was a tad tedious to work through, I loved all the scenes. As usual, I'll give my thoughts on 'em all.

Riddick tells another tale from his past. I figured Jack woulda heard a good bit, but Riddick is still a private person. So she cherishes gems like these. Rachel gets a look into his life on the run and how past experiences (e.g. Wailing Wars) that affect his present (e.g. killing Randal on Daedalus).

More Zimmy! This conversation was lovely. Lots of vagueness, foreshadowing, plot-building... Insight into Alexis as a teacher who loves teaching. We also get a better picture of how Rachel views her current situation. Overall, I just like Rachel hacking a com to carry out an anonymous conversation. Heh.

Ah... Jack's dream. What needs to be said here? Jack has a lot of unresolved tension. It tends to show in these sorts of dreams, which often mix her recent events with her fantasies. That can make for some strange ones. Heh... someone has a fixation with a big, bald man. Naughty, Jack, very, very naughty! The latest dream--but the last? Hah! I don't think so.

The return of Jack's posse. I told you I wasn't done with them. The next scene shows Kiara takin' care of business. She's good at keeping everyone together and functioning. Plays a huge part in morale. Sebastian was a backbone of the gang and his sudden fall put everyone in a scramble. Only by her gumption did they manage not to spiral out of control. In warning Riddick, she played a large role, however short it was.

Then there's Sebastian's conversation on the heels of her warning. Wise bugger, ain't he? Playing possum will get you plenty of information. And he bolsters Jack's confidence... what will that do for Jack in her own little hunt for Riddick...? Mwahahahaa! ..._Ahem_. Anyway...

Urchin! This kid's awesome. He was originally just a small footnote. However, as everyone who has read this far _must_ know, I don't halfway do any of my characters. He has his own personality and it seems very Jack-ish. I readily admit his plot-device-y nature, but I do them very well. I don't like to just throw in clichés, so I add as many twists, variations on a theme, and as much realism as I can to make them enjoyable anyway.

Back to Jack and Rachel. A little girl-to-girl conversation... well, as much as Jack will stand. Rachel is a little bit evil here. Jack and Riddick can't really see the way they both skirt the issue of what hangs between them. Riddick refuses to acknowledge Jack as someone who will eventually have a relationship (with him, at that)... And Jack is impatiently waiting for her chance to make a move. Poor Mr. Evil has _no_ idea what's coming. That mousy redhead just loves watching this sort of thing unfold--she has a front row seat, too. Heh.

And now... a massive upgrade to the Glossary. There are 31 new terms added to it. Some are ones I forgot to put in and others are brand new for this chapter! There's some stuff on sites and creatures of Helion Prime and Nemaeus 4, some com terms (for those that are confused by the future-tech lingo I use), some Alliance government branches, a new character, and Riddick's ship is now included. This will be a new section to the Author's Notes; I think it is wise to include the new entries as I go. This should help you wade through the old stuff if you just want to find what's new.

* * *

NEW GLOSSARY ENTRIES:

Urchin

"Ant Farm"

Central City

Dengali

Dengali River

Dengali Sea

Eastern Sea

_Gift of Nyx_

Highland City

Nemaeus 4

New Mecca

North City

North Sea

Northern Plateau

Southern Gate

_Spirit of Langavat_

Alliance Congressional Senate

Alliance Executive Offices

Alliance Judicial System

Com-Pad

"Croc'ed"

Crocodilian

Data-Pad

Discussion Channels Index

Helion Mantas

Nemaean Eels

Nemaean Piranha

Open Discussion Channel

Private Discussion Channel

Qin Fashion

Universal Denominations

* * *

THANKS:

Finally, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Thug, Beth, and Vince for all their help! Thanks guys!

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	24. 24: The Best Laid Plans

24

"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 24: The Best Laid Plans_

Zimmy was looking over an official contract between the mercs, Eve Logan and Terry Chen, and the Alliance. As much as she wanted to find Rachel, and by proxy Riddick, she didn't want the Alliance to screw her assets over. She was giving them a chance to stay out of slam, but she was aware that the Alliance often found other ways of cleaning their hands of something when the mission was over. If Eve and Terry survived this, she would let them walk.

Walking would be something refreshing for Eve. After her legs were crushed, it took some careful setting and Nano-Med infusions to put the limbs back to right. The woman looked impatient to get up and go. Alexis' guess was that idle time gave Eve time to think about her life, which was apparently less than pleasant. She understood the mentality--keeping busy so one didn't have to think about what they became. The ex-Marine had come to terms with it a long time ago... Apparently, the mercenary still struggled with it.

By fourteenth hour, Alexis finished going through the deal with a fine-toothed comb. So far, the contract seemed straightforward. A pardon for an Alliance-directed mission. So long as Logan and Chen stuck to the deal and played by the rules, everything should--in theory--turn out just fine. If Rachel did her part, then maybe the risk involved would be reduced.

Certainly, she knew Riddick was likely to be pissed as Hell. She hoped that didn't bode ill for Rachel as the messenger. This was the best plan they had for contacting them, though. It wasn't like they could just put out a public bulletin. Alexis snorted at the very idea.

'_Richard B. Riddick, please give your expected location, date, and time for an Alliance conference at your earliest convenience. Thank you._'

She chuckled at the idea. The reply would probably be vulgar and vehement. Then again, considering what she knew of him as he was masquerading as Rick Phoebus, he might just reply candidly. There was definitely some military style to him, but he wouldn't have learned that in any prison. She wondered just where Riddick learned what he did.

Zimmy decided that she could look it up later; she was sure she would have clearance to access the files. Right now, however, she was done with work for today. It was time to relax and put Riddick and the Alliance far from her mind.

Her com gave its usual chime--not a bark, thankfully--for when she had an incoming call. She debated answering but, as always, knew she would answer. It was a vid-call. That meant it could only be a few people. Those people were important. Alexis accepted the call.

"Yes?" she answered succinctly as usual.

Nick's face resolved on the screen, "Zimmy, you busy?"

"Not really, what'd you need?"

"Your mercs good to go, yet?"

Something was wrong about his tone. It seemed just this side of intense--urgent. There was a purpose for this call. He needed some information. The ex-Marine decided to give him what he needed.

"No, they're still recovering. One's legs were pretty banged up. It'll be five days before my team's mobile... ten before they're good to set out."

"Don't wait any longer than you have to. There's competition," said Nicholas, who went on to give her specifics before she could ask, "We got a merc on Daedalus Station. Name's Toombs."

"Toombs... That's my two mercs' former team-lead," she acknowledged.

"He was askin' around the brothels for information of Riddick. The Zolus dissuaded him from asking questions and we'll be pressuring Station Security to see him off soon. Don't know where he'll go or what he's found out... Typically, nobody rats on Daedalus. Too dangerous. But if he found a trail, he's likely to follow it."

"Fuck," Zimmy muttered, "Lemme know where he goes, yeah? I'm gonna check in with his guild and see if we can put a tab on him. With luck, he sends his tracking logs regularly."

"Of course. Good luck with that. Might wanna be careful with your mercs, though. This guy was paying a hundred UDs for information, but my guy says his gauge was visible and he was using it for persuasion."

Alexis scowled, "Dangle a carrot, and carry a big stick just in case."

"Sounds like."

"Alright," the Lieutenant General said with an exasperated sigh, "Keep me informed. I'll see what I can do about possibly speeding up my mercenaries' recovery. Doubtful, though--they're already on the most intensive plan we have." She paused, looking contemplative and feeling unsure. She didn't want to hurt or threaten anyone, but she couldn't risk Toombs reaching Riddick first, "I don't suppose you could... gently dissuade people from talking to him?"

Bless him, Nicholas seemed to know what she was saying. He gave her that trouble-promising smirk that lit up his warm, brown eyes, "Been doing one better. We got Zolus trailing him everywhere he goes. We're pretty sure he knows we're watching. He's getting shit-all done with us buzzing around him. Nobody's dared even look at him when he approaches. We figure that, if he doesn't get fed up soon, Station Security will boot 'im."

Alexis relaxed, "Thanks, Nick."

"No prob, Zimmy. Glad to help."

Nicholas lingered. He was just staring at her through the screen, but Alexis wasn't foolish enough to think he had spaced out. There was something bothering him and he was debating bringing it up. He'd been like this shortly before his court marshal, though during that time his stare was deeper--piercing into your soul and trying to drag out the truth.

"What is it, Nick?" she prompted.

"...This Araya guy," he finally broke his silence, "I don't trust him."

Alexis blinked before she remembered the man she'd set up for their weapons-dealer, Kassab. She canted her head to the side. Colonel Diego Araya's paperwork and recommendations were solid and exemplary. She couldn't see what could possibly make him untrustworthy.

"Why do you say that?"

"Zaira had six loads ready to ship to Araya. They were a few days away from sending the first installment when she up and changes the numbers. Now there're twelve shipments at half the size. Araya didn't even raise a fuss. I would have. It just doesn't sound right.

"Amir isn't worried, but Jackal and I can't find any reason why she would have just changed the numbers on a whim. Zaira's a very methodical person; she makes a plan and she sticks to it. It doesn't fit."

"Maybe it's just a security measure. They could have decided it was too chancy to move that much at once. It only makes sense that they'd keep up on developments and adapt to changes in a situation. Have they been talking?"

He frowned in frustration and bit out, "_Yes_. He's been calling Zaira twice a week. Half the time they're not even discussing weapons or shipments, they're just _talking_."

Alexis' brows lifted. "O...kay, maybe it's not just business. Have you tried talking to her about it? You said yourself that she's a smart girl; _methodical_. It's doubtful she's just acting like a silly schoolgirl." She snorted, "I teach those--when I was speaking with her, she didn't seem like that."

"She's not," he said with a shake of his head, crossing his arms.

"If you're that concerned, Nick, talk to her. Have you asked her directly what's going on between her and Colonel Araya?"

The Zolus commander shifted, "...No. We figured it would make sense if we waited it out. This latest change in shipment is what made us second-guess that idea."

"Talk to her. Tell her why you're worried. Don't interrogate her; _just ask_. If she feels confronted, she probably won't tell you anything."

He seemed to consider that for a moment, and then marginally relaxed his shoulders, "I'll get Jackal to do it. She opens up easier to him."

Zimmy didn't bother commenting. She didn't trust Jackal as far as she could throw him from the other side of a com. It seemed odd to her that someone like Jackal could be a confidant. Then again, a few months ago, she would never have thought the infamous Richard B. Riddick was anything but a cold-blooded, remorseless killer.

She nodded and swung them back on track, "Thanks for tipping me off about this Toombs character. I'll see what we can do about it."

Saint Nick inclined his head, his eyes looking less turbulent and more assured. Sometimes people just needed someone to listen. It was the least she could do for Nicholas. Finally, he gave her that light smile as usual.

"No prob, Zimmy. See you 'round."

The vid-call blipped off. Alexis sighed. So much for being done with work...

* * *

Twenty-first hours on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays was reserved in Rachel's schedule for marksmanship. This was her last practice for this week. Typically, it didn't matter what day it was, but this time was special. The redhead simply wasn't getting better. She had tried looking on the Networks for tips, but they didn't seem to help any. There had to be something about the way she was going about this.

Her experience with first-person-shooter videogames gave her an edge in aiming... Initially, that had been enough for her. After Daedalus, she realized she just wasn't good enough. Now, however, she had hit a wall. The simulations for the past few weeks only showed that she needed some serious work to be useful in any sort of situation in which Riddick and Jack might need her as backup.

That was why she'd asked Riddick for help. He was knowledgeable about combat and weapons. Maybe his training could spot what she was missing. She had just grabbed the V-Arms chip to insert into the gun when Riddick entered the workout room.

"Hey, I'm just about ready."

"We're not doing that, yet," he replied simply.

She stared at him quizzically.

"I don't know what you've trained into yourself or what you're missing," said Big Evil, "I'd rather just start with a blank slate. Sometimes it's best if you work from the bottom up."

"Oh," Rachel noised.

Riddick sat down on the ground and she joined him. When he held his hands out, she held out the rifle for him. That was when he flipped the ejector and pulled out the magazine out from the top of the gun.

"First off, you wanna make sure your gun is safe. Take out the magazine... then check the chamber, then the barrel. Make sure nothin's there."

"Doesn't the gun check itself? Only pre-HUD weapons don't."

The bald man shook his head, "Don't trust technology. Number of things can go wrong when you just expect something to do its job. Better to check for yourself. ...No bullets, good.

"Now, the gun has two halves. Upper and lower. You wanna separate 'em by the two pins," he said, turning the gun to show her the circles, "You just push 'em out a bit from this side and pull 'em from the other side..."

When he did that, he was able to take off the entire top of the gun. Rachel blinked. She didn't understand why she had to know this to shoot better, but she would go with it. After a while, there were several parts on the mat and her mind felt a little jumbled. Riddick explained every part and what it did, and then told her how to maintain the gun so it would always be ready to function. Having taken the whole thing apart, he put it back together and tested it.

"Your turn."

"Uh..."

"I'll walk you through it, but you're gonna take it apart and put it back together. We'll do that every time you pick the rifle up 'til you could do it in your sleep. ...Then I'll show you how to work some of the handguns we have."

Rachel nodded. She did it one more time before he had her go through how to hold the weapon. It turns out her grip and posture were wrong. He showed her how to shoot from various positions including standing, crouching, lying, and the best way to fire if you had to move while doing so.

They never got around to the V-Arms scenario mode. He said he needed to hammer the basics into her head and make it instinct. After that, he would take a look at her tactics in a given situation. It made sense and she ended that night with a better understanding of her weapon than she had before Riddick assisted her. Although she was impatient, she could see that it would help her much in the future.

"You gotta know your weapon. Know it like you know yourself. It's your best friend; your life. Master your weapon like you master your life. Without you, your weapon is useless. Without your weapon, you're useless. Got it?"

Rachel nodded, "Got it."

* * *

MONDAY

Rachel rubbed her hair vigorously with the towel, still damp after her warm shower. Her morning exercises always left her feeling tired and the following shower made her limber as the burn wore off by the water's warmth. By the time they left for their pick-up today as the Connals, she would feel energized by her short rest. These days, it was late mornings through evening when her energy peaked. That was largely in part to the training schedule Riddick had her adopt from day one. The redhead could appreciate that; it cut back on her laziness and made her more productive. It gave her a sense of accomplishment.

It was half-past tenth hour, and in half an hour, they had to be at Navigear, Inc. to pick up four crates of their all-terrain, multi-purpose suits. Jack came out from her room and disappeared into the cockpit, likely doing pre-flight checks. Riddick was still in the workout room, tweaking some gear or the like that would be used in future lessons for Jack or herself.

Rachel checked her com-pad. It was probably best to see if there was any homework waiting for them, yet. She checked both her classes and Jack's, noting that Jack had a new assignment in her elective, astrophysics; a short report of some kind. They had the usual daily work in calculus, physics, comparative literature, and cultural history. The redhead's elective, advanced com technologies, had the standard... but also a '_challenge assignment_' for any that wished to attempt it. It counted as extra credit. That piqued the genius' interest.

The description read that the assignment was in a certain partition of the academy's server, but that the actual assignment was encrypted, firewalled, and required a password which would not be provided. No cracker programs or bots were allowed and required that the student document all steps they took to access the assignment and complete it. The mouse blinked, realizing the assignment meant that she couldn't use Rhadamanthus or Minos...

Rachel grinned. She hadn't done a solo challenge like this since she decided to crack Sentry's servers, and subsequently _liberated_ the Sentinel executable. It seems that Mrs. Zimmerman had made the suggestion to Mr. Deckard that he challenge his students. This would be undeniably fun to crack. Documenting her tracks would, inevitably, show Mr. Deckard just how capable she was... but this was too good to pass up. Maybe this would start a series of challenges. Unfortunately, she couldn't take the time to look into it. They'd be leaving for Navigear, Inc. soon.

In the time it took them to get there, however, the hacker also wanted to find another story. She'd finished the last novel. The plot with Carrie the super-soldier and Doctor Fitz was so romantic that she really wanted something else to carry it on. Rachel liked the emotions the author evoked and the relationship provided for the main characters... _really_ liked it.

The girl decided to search out other books by the same author. Almost immediately, she came upon one that piqued her interest. This book was the woman's latest work. It featured a princess of a planetary sovereignty who winds up entangled with one of the most feared space pirates' crew. This one promised adventure, romance, and political intrigue... It was perfect!

The redhead decisively downloaded _The Siren's Call_ to her com-pad. The novel joined a rather large library of similar books. She smiled with anticipation, but the story would have to wait. She heard the ship beginning to hum with energy; they were almost ready to go. Jack was probably calling in their departure from the docking bay, now. Moments later, she heard Jack over the ship's intercom.

#Hey, Riddick. Control says we got a sandstorm sweeping from the south. Came from the Ant Farm and hit Central City... prolly hit in an hour and a half. Do we delay or get there and wait it out?#

Riddick just topped the stairs from the lower decks. Rachel glanced to him as he headed into the cockpit. On the way in, he rubbed his smooth scalp while thinking about it.

"Let's get there, we can wait it out at the company if we have to. Only got four crates, though. If we push it, might be able to get back before the big winds hit the city."

* * *

Their plans were sabotaged from the start. Navigear, Inc. had a queue for loading. By the time they got in the loading dock, the floor manager was rushing about between various outbound shipments. Finally, after twenty minutes of watching the manager flit back and forth, Murdoch managed to oh-so-gently flag him down. Afterward, Morrigan quietly informed him that snagging someone's tie like a leash and yanking them to a stop probably wouldn't build good business relations.

When they requested their cargo, the found it stashed off to the side by the nightshift, but no forklift to move it. The floor manager wasn't an asshole like the one from Vec-Corp, but he definitely wasn't prepared and in-control like Ami from Nano-Med, Inc. He informed them that there would be a forklift provided for them--in about half an hour; Aislin nearly accosted him.

The wind started to pick up outside. By the time they got the forklift, there were heavy crosswinds raging outside. The sandstorm would be upon them before they finished moving the cargo. Aislin now paced while she irascibly muttered about lack of organization and scheduling. Murdoch's arms were crossed as he leaned against the _Spirit_ and watched Aislin pace. For her part, Morrigan quietly reviewed their investments. She chose three more companies to spread their allotted stock funds. Never put all your eggs in one basket, and all that. She was happy with including Nano-Med, Inc. as one of the three.

After the cargo was loaded, the Connals ate lunch aboard the _Spirit_. There was little else to do and Murdoch set an alert on the weather watch system. Then they waited. Aislin was picking at one of her boots with a shiv; her other boot already had a small hollow in its heel. Morrigan had no idea what the brunette was planning on doing with them, but didn't ask.

By 14:45, the storm still raged. It was estimated to go for another half hour to an hour, at that. The redhead occupied her time with the novel she'd previously downloaded, _The Siren's Call_...

* * *

_ Space Pirates. They roam the outer rim and the void between galaxies. They are a law unto themselves. Those laws were strict, however, even if some of them were in direct opposition of the crown. Oh, the Royal Navy tried to curb these space-faring brigands... but they could not stem the tide of those seeking the freedom they felt in their hearts, which they felt echoed in the void. Princess Raelyn Blackburn was swiftly coming to the conclusion that these cut-throat wanderers were brutish and barbaric, but were neither uncivilized nor doltish._

_ And then there was the infamous Captain Arianna Mackenzie. The woman was, if one could excuse Raelyn's coarse language, a bitch. Ruthless, scheming, tempting, and powerful, one did not trifle with Captain Mackenzie foolishly. Arianna was also forceful as well as charming. Whether through blackmail and violence or through deception and enticement, she always got what she wanted. _Always_._

_ Raelyn sighed and nervously fidgeted in a chair in the captain's quarters. The Princess' ship had been taken; by now likely looted and pillaged to scrap floating in the void. Her crew now resided in the brig, she had been told, and were likely to remain there until the pirates found a use for them. As for her... she was the pretty prize of their raid. Of the four pirates that saw her to the captain's quarters, all had conflicting theories on her fate. The first said Mackenzie might ransom her back to her father, King Alexander Blackburn. The second offered a worse fate--to be sold into slavery on the outer rim. The third said she might be made into their maidservant aboard Mackenzie's ship, _The Siren_. The fourth merely chuckled ominously._

_ It had been an hour since she had been seen to the room... and she quickly found all cabinets and drawers locked. Nothing useful laid about; only the lavish furniture--some of which was bolted down--remained. Nothing that could be used as a wieldy weapon presented itself to her. Arianna was taking no chances. And so Raelyn sat and awaited her captor and her fate._

_ When the door opened some half-hour later, the Princess saw before her the grinning visage of the greatest and most dangerous woman of the times._

_ "Welcome to _The Siren_, Princess."_

* * *

Rachel lost herself in the adventurous tale of pirates and politics. As the winds finally died down and the sandstorm settled somewhere over the North Sea, the _Spirit of Langavat_ made its way back to the docking bay. She continued to read and made good headway in this first stint of reading. The mousy girl got caught up in all the schemes; the King's attempts to keep power, the commodore of the royal armada charged with hunting down Captain Mackenzie, and the various harrowing situations with Arianna among the armada and other pirates. And that was just the first quarter of the first book in the soon-to-be series!

As fast-paced and thrilling as it was, Rachel put the story aside before dinner. That was enough reading for today and she had other things begging for her attention. Namely, that challenge assignment from Mr. Deckard...

* * *

TUESDAY

At 09:30 on the button, a technician from the ship parts supplier arrived in a large truck. The man had dark hair tied at his neck, but it continued almost to his shoulder blades. His body was a shade darker than Riddick's and his build told the bald man that the guy got in his share of exercise. The technician had strong, defined face and intense, dark eyes. His forehead had small frown-lines that spoke of either high stress, deep thought, or both. He wore a blue suit, tool belt, and had a clipboard under one arm. As he approached the ship, Riddick came out the side exit. The man appeared ready to work and was evaluating the _Spirit of Langavat_, as if he were a knight sizing up a dragon to slay. He was probably trying to figure how best to move the new cockpit parts into the ship. A nod was given to Riddick and the clipboard put in front of him.

"Mr. Connal, right? I'm Kane Wesakechak from the Zilos Corporation. Please, sign for the delivery. The cockpit's in a bunch of boxes in the back, I'll have to take them in and assemble them once they're inside. First, however, we'll need to take out the old cockpit. What's the best way to move things in and out?"

"That's me. Let's see what we're workin' with..."

After signing he walked over to the truck. Kane opened the truck's storage and they both stared at the twelve or so boxes of varying size that would, eventually turn into a cockpit. Riddick nodded and took a moment to consider his options.

"Between us, we can take these up the side entrance no problem. The current cockpit isn't as easy; wasn't really made to be uninstalled. We'll probably have to take it out in chunks through the cargo bay."

The two walked up into the _Spirit of Langavat_ and into the cockpit. Once inside, Kane whistled. It wasn't tactical... but it was advanced and probably expensive. His geek-side was practically salivating over it, but he retained his professionalism. He looked it over and nodded; Mr. Connal was a wise man.

"You said you wanted to take advantage of our swap-out rebate. I can scan the specs in and I'll have an appraisal for you in a couple of hours. Off the top of my head, though, this will probably knock at least a fifth off the original price."

"Mm," Riddick noised appreciatively. Money back was always good.

"Well, I better get started. The sooner I take this thing apart, the sooner I can start the software installation. That can take a while..."

* * *

While they were working, Rachel watched Riddick and Mr.--well, she couldn't pronounce his last name without massacring it--watched Riddick and Kane take out chunk after chunk of the old cockpit. Jack hung around interestedly, asking questions about this or that part when she couldn't figure out what something did. Riddick answered most of them. Even as the two men strained and noised their exertions, Big Evil took the chance to turn this into another piloting lesson.

Kane looked a little surprised at first, but eventually he began to join in. He added various technical functions to the parts of their old cockpit and pointed out how the new one would change. Riddick explained the practicality of those changes. Over the course of two and a half hours, Jack learned just what her actions in the pilot seat did to make the ship function.

They broke for lunch, which Rachel prepared for the four of them. Kane graciously accepted a plate of tuna casserole from the food-prep machine. Riddick and Kane took their meal and ate in the galley. Jack ate in the cockpit, examining the mostly gutted controls. Eager as they were to finish their work, the other three scarfed down their meals. The redhead decided to take her time.

The genius girl decided to eat in the lounge, as she often did, and check her com. She wanted to compose a message to send to her mother and possibly one to Cassandra. She would do that when Kane had left, however. She didn't like the idea of a man with technical knowledge looking at the com, since he might become suspicious. After all, 'Morrigan' was just supposed to be their accountant and broker.

As she sat there, glancing through some of her less conspicuous documents--ones _not_ from Sentry, she considered what she wanted to say to her mother and to Cassandra. They were on her thoughts ever since she spoke with Zimmy. Words were often hard to come by when she didn't have a point to make. She couldn't very well gossip with them about Riddick and Jack. There had been some very stressful times lately and how did anyone remain vague and downplay the issue while expressing their concern? Not only that, but some things Rachel was sure neither Riddick nor Jack wanted anyone to know. Just what could or couldn't she say? She hated having to speak through a filter!

The hacker sighed and continued reading. These documents weren't as interesting as what was in Sentry's databanks. Rachel finished her meal while glazing over some of the finer details of this old case file; the profile was fairly detailed and she thought she knew who the murderer was on Cygnus 3 of their five suspects. Before she could read further into the investigation, Rachel was interrupted by Minos.

The artificial intelligences had been muted while Kane was here unless there was an emergency. The message flashed on the screen unobtrusively and the girl was quick to acknowledge it.

#Fisher System News Network will be showing footage of the Knights of NI being escorted to their trial in one minute. Would you like to open the channel?#

"Put it up," she said eagerly. Finally, she would be able to watch the beginning of their end!

The screen switched from her document to a full screen that resolved itself into a anchorman. He was nondescript in his suit and average hair and voice, but her grey-blue eyes drank up every pixel, her ears immediately keyed into his every word. This would start everyone on the road to recovery and restitution.

"-word from James at the courthouse. The escort has just arrived on Fourth Avenue. James?"

The image switched to a view above the street, aimed cattycornered to take in a length of the street where two police hover-cars escorted an armored prisoner carrier hovered along silently between them. From somewhere off-screen, the reporter spoke quickly, but concisely about the event. His voice was charged with just enough enthusiasm to have Rachel leaning forward in her seat.

"I'm here, Brian. Yes, you can see the cavalcade coming down the street toward the courthouse now. Once inside, they will enter their plea. The three alleged hackers have made no statements, but prosecutors seem very optimistic with the evidence gathered by the Department of Defense's Sentry Sector.

"They're about five blocks from the courthouse. Roads along the street are closed from six blocks away and traffic is being halted. It seems that the police are taking no chances with their prisoners. That's understandable, considering this is the highest profile case the Fisher System has had in decades."

* * *

Jack came out from the mostly-gutted cockpit and walked toward the aft part of the upper deck. She was intending to get her com-pad and work on homework. Rachel was busy watching a news reel. The rapt attention the redhead paid to it, accompanied with the way the hacker leaned forward while watching, gave the brunette pause. She leaned in the doorway to the hall and watched the procession. The headline along the bottom scrolled out the pertinent details. No wonder Rachel was watching it with such fervor.

This had been important to the other girl on a visceral level from the moment it occurred, even after she had joined Jack and Riddick on their ship. Despite everything that had happened so far, it seemed to always idle in the back of Rachel's mind. This should be a great relief to her friend. Jack was glad and focused on the news reel with a hint of satisfaction.

* * *

"For those just joining us, we are seeing the arrival of the three men who allegedly robbed the Aquilan Banking Trust using the aliases Arthur, Lancelot, and Galahad; names of three hackers who call themselves the Knights of NI. The true identities of these-"

A bright flash filled the screen, accompanied by a thunderclap that immediately silenced the reporter. Windows along the block around the procession shattered and rained down like giant snowflakes glinting in sunlight. People ran for cover and screams were heard. The bright flash quickly died away, replaced with a large plume of smoke. The hover-carrier between the two cars lifted up off the ground, pitched forward, and ground forward upon its nose. It then tilted and crashed on its right side like a felled beast during the hunt.

The armored prisoner carrier was awash with flames that covered its roof and sides, and spewed from blown or melted windows. There was a gaping hole on the underside of the vehicle that belched more smoke from inside the quickly charring shell. Everyone inside undoubtedly died instantly.

* * *

Rachel gasped, hands clamped over her mouth in horror. What was happening? Why did the carrier explode? This wasn't supposed to happen! This couldn't really be happening, could it? The questions flew through her head, bouncing around hectically and stacking perilously upon each other as she tried to process everything. However, her mental facilities were incapable of dealing with anything, still deadlocked by the footage bombarding her eyes and ears.

* * *

After a moment of stunned silence, the reporter began speaking. He could scarcely put together a sentence for several moments. Finally, years of reporting provided his tongue with words... On autopilot, he described the scene in a frighteningly strained monotone. Slowly, the words gained a sense of direction and let forth the emotions he wanted to subconsciously convey.

"There's been an... explosion of some sort. Something's gone wrong. I don't know what--somehow, the van's been completely blown open from underneath and it's burning. There are flames and smoke everywhere, there's no end to it. It just keeps burning.

"Glass is falling down from the windows, it's just falling out all over the place... The police are surrounding the block, now. People are running everywhere. I've no idea what just happened, it was like... like a bomb went off. Was--was this an attack of some sort?

"No one could have survived in that vehicle. The police 'cars escorting it aren't moving, either. There are injured people laying amidst the glass. Oh, God, I think--I think some of them are _dead_. The police are... scrambling to move everyone away.

"I-I don't know what happened; I'm going to see if we can get down to street level to find out more. The smoke is blotting out everything from up here."

The flitter that carried the reporter and the cameraman slowly descended toward street level. The moment the tiny craft landed, the reporter was out and waving his arm frantically for the camera man to follow.

* * *

Jack felt like Riddick had punted her in the stomach. The flash and the resulting scene unfolding before her assaulted her mind and made her flinch. Her legs felt wobbly and a cold-sweat broke over her body. The girl backed up into the hallway as the view on the wall-mounted com shook when the cameraman jumped out of the flitter. Jack quickly turned around, feeling nauseous; the ship seemed to tilt and spin under her feet. It was a miracle that she opened the right door. She didn't bother closing the door. The girl simply collapsed upon her bed, and shook in nameless terror.

Her eyes slowly focused on the darkness and the silence. Quiet and dark was good. Jack _liked_ the dark. Not like _her_; she lived on this bright, sand-blasted planet. Without the noise addling her mind, she took the time to assemble her thoughts--turn them away from the panic. Her quickened breaths slowed just a bit, only to hitch moments later as the thoughts returned.

* * *

_With the bright flash, the window shattered. She twisted and recoiled, threw herself as far away from the window as she could. Her ears rung painfully as she screamed until her throat hurt. A merciful darkness claimed her senses and took her away from that awful moment._

* * *

Jack cringed, whimpered, "No... No, no, _no_..."

* * *

_ A crackling noise filled her ears as she awoke. Her eyes opened, focused sluggishly and only with prolonged effort. As she sat up, tiny gravels of glass fell from her shirt. She heard sirens in the distance. When she stood, she could see out the frames filled with shards of cracked glass that had not fallen out. Heat buffeted her face and made her blink. Beyond the window she could see a fire devouring a block of what looked like a mangled jungle gym._

_ Deirdre was too scared to move, too scared to _think_. The longer she stood there, the more she didn't want to think about it. The door in the foyer hung open, somehow jarred unlocked and swung inward completely._

* * *

"No," she commanded, and her mind furiously denied, '_That isn't... it didn't..._'

Jack needed to close the door. Couldn't leave the door wide open like that. She couldn't think about these things right now. It would all go away if she could just close the door. The street rat took a slow, deep breath and rolled off the bed. The door was right there, all she had to do was close it.

The green-eyed girl wandered over to the sliding door of her room and slowly slid it along its tracks. With every inch, she felt calmer... the whole event became less distinct. Blurry. The door cut away the harsh light from the hallway. By the time she was left in complete darkness, she was far more calm.

She rested a hand against the cool metal of the door, standing in pitch black and frowning. A headache was starting to assault her, stabbing behind her eyes and pounding in her temples.

"...Fuck."

On top of that, Jack couldn't remember why she came here in the first place. Damnit, she hated when that happened! With a sigh, she flicked on the lights and glanced around the room. Her eyes settled on the nightstand, where her com-pad laid untouched. The brunette's mind kick-started and reminded her that she had a bit of homework. She ate lunch and wanted to finish some of it. Jack snagged her com-pad, turned out the light, and left her room.

* * *

Jack paused in the door to the lounge and glanced at the com-screen. It was half past thirteenth hour and there was some big news. Rachel looked a bit pale and shock was written across her features. The street rat walked behind the couch, keeping her eyes on the wall-mounted com as she moved, and leaned over the back of the cushion behind the mouse. There was a mass of flaming wreckage sitting in the middle of the street. A reporter was prattling on about it.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

Rachel jumped, "_Jack_!"

The brunette quickly glanced around and Rachel seemed to realize her mistake as soon as it left her mouth. Nobody seemed to notice her slip. Rachel composed herself and continued in a quieter voice.

"The Knights of NI--they were on their way to trial. Their hover-carrier exploded! They're--they're dead. They were supposed to go to trial and then to prison. I didn't want them to _die_! Everyone's talking about car-bombs and assassinations. The DoD hasn't commented, but they're working with the local police to figure out what happened.

"_Someone_ killed the Knights... but the DoD just wanted them convicted and sent them to jail. Who would want the Knights dead? And _why_? ...I mean, I know a lot of people were upset over the robbery, but who would have that kind of access?"

The words came rapidly and slightly haphazard. At least Rachel was thinking again. She still had no answer for the deluge of questions she was rambling. However, she knew someone who might. She needed to contact Sentry. They would know _something_. They had to...

'_I can't do that until this techie leaves, though... Okay. Okay, calm down. Make a plan. What's my first step...?_'

As Rachel soothed her stress by plotting, Jack continued to watch as the events replayed for the third time. The girl quickly became uncomfortable watching the explosion and focused on the genius. She frowned at the troubled expression she saw.

"I'm sure they'll know something. Not much happens without them having some kinda pulse on it, right? At the very least, you could get a starting point from 'em."

Rachel nodded. If only that Kane-guy weren't here...

"...Listen, I've got a killer headache, I'm gonna take something for it and lay down for a bit."

As Jack moved off while rubbing her temples, Rachel wished her luck with it. Jack didn't respond--must have been really hurting. She sighed and looked back to the com. So much for an ending to Cerberus' problems.

"...Damnit."

* * *

By fourteenth hour, the Fisher System News Network was still replaying the events. It displayed the smoldering remains of the prisoner carrier. The camera lingered pornographically on the flames and the twisted, jagged metal mass. The three hackers, nine of eleven police officers transporting them, and two civilians nearby were killed. Over a dozen others were injured. The reporter was still babbling about it, but the man watching the wreckage was no longer paying attention.

Beside the glowing com-screen, a fist slammed down and jostled the drink sitting a few inches away. Under the sudden violence, the cup rocked and the liquid sloshed--threatened to spill, but regained itself before gravity could claim it.

"God_damnit_!"

He'd spent _years_ on this! Years of planning, of plotting, of sheer _fucking_ luck to make it through all the hardships. It had even become necessary to fake his death. In one fell swoop, those assholes fucked it all up! The man stood and began pacing, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Sphinx was back to square one.

His job as a nanite technician was merely supposed to be cover. Sphinx just _had_ to be the best, though. He liked working in his cover--learned quite a bit. Soon he was lead technician. In the end, it wasn't his true job, but that very cover as lead nano-technician that drew their attention to him. Oh, they'd tried to _persuade_ him to join them, but he refused. What they were doing was wrong and he wanted no part in it. That was when they'd threatened his family.

The only way out was to remove himself from the equation. If he was dead, they had no reason to hurt his family and had no help from him. It had taken a few days to set up the explosion that would supposedly claim his life so that no one would question it. However, even with his death, he couldn't go back to his family. Those bastards were still out there and they had to be stopped.

After that, he was almost constantly on the move when he suspected anyone was getting close. During that time, the hacker fought to the top of that game of King of the Hill; he out-hacked everyone. Finally, Sentry labeled Sphinx as the number one cryptoterrorist. From there, he'd started the Riddlers...

There had been sacrifices along the way. He had given up so much for this; his identity, his old life, and even some of his ethics. Sphinx wasn't the only one touched by this, either. Most notably, C4sper had practically martyred himself. It had gone a long way to get Cerberus to work with Sentry--something that he never dreamed might happen.

But none of it mattered, now. Those bastards had taken away everything from him. They were too big, too powerful to move against without some assistance. A small group of hackers couldn't touch them. Even orchestrating the events that led to attaining Cerberus' help--though the trio of hackers weren't aware of it--had not stopped the insidious activity from within that damned foundation.

His hopes of returning home were once again postponed, but not forgotten. They were never forgotten. Someday, he would return. For that very reason, he couldn't give up. Not now and not ever. If Sphinx was back at square one, then that was exactly where he'd begin.

"_Goddamnit_," he cursed again, but it was barely a whisper.

* * *

The installation of the hardware went like clockwork. Kane had said that the longer part, which could take up to three hours, was the software installation, system check, and the synch-check between the cockpit and the weapons. He hadn't planned to be done before seventeenth hour. There was little to do while it was loading except make sure nothing went completely bugfuck with the systems. The technician was thusly surprised when it finished just past fifteenth hour--an hour after the installation started.

In lieu of speaking, Rhadamanthus merely displayed a message for them, #Installation and auto-configuration completed. System check completed.

#Begin synch-check: Yes/No.#

Kane chose to run it.

#Lock and load,# came Rhad's affirmation.

"Goddamn," Kane muttered in astonished incredulity, "I never saw the software install so fast... even the config just synched up. God_damn_... luxury ships come with everything, these days, huh? What OS is it running?"

Rachel, who had been impatiently hovering around the lounge, listened to Riddick and Kane talking in the cockpit. When the software finished, she moved up behind him in time to hear his surprise. Despite her impatience to have him leave, she wouldn't be rude.

The redhead ghosted behind him and spoke up, "K9, version 3.0."

Kane jolted lightly, then frowned, "Huh... never heard of it."

"It's proprietary," she responded easily.

"Proprietary, hm? How'd you come across it? You work for the developers?"

Rachel gave an ambiguous shrug, "We previously had deals with the DoD's Sentry Sector."

"Yeah, I heard there was a big breakthrough for 'em recently. I oughta consider a federal job..."

Rachel didn't reply, lost in her thoughts about how that 'big breakthrough' had just ended.

"Well," Kane said as he stood up from the console, "I started the synch-check. No need for me to stick around for that--just run it as many times as it needs. When it finishes the check, it'll give you an accuracy percentage. If it's less than 80, run it again. Ideally, it's between 94 and 99... Don't run it more than five times, though. If you gotta do it that many times, something didn't go through. Give us a call if that happens. Otherwise, you should be good to go."

"Yep," Riddick agreed easily.

Kane made his departure. Before the technician's hover-truck started its engine, Rachel was already at the com and pulling on her headset. It was time to have a talk with Sentry. It was earlier than she usually had her conversations with them; those usually happened at nineteenth hour. The circumstances, however, necessitated that she not waste time.

Riddick came up behind her as she was returning speech options to Rhad and Minos.

He shook his head, "You love dicking with people, don't you?"

"Not really, I just take pride in my work."

Riddick shrugged and went back into the cockpit to oversee the synch-check tests.

* * *

Antony Greco, Lieutenant General of Sentry Sector, cursed quietly to himself. This was a major clusterfuck. Worse, he didn't know how in the Hell it happened. Security had been extremely tight. Then they had handed things over to the local law enforcement. He supposed that had been a mistake. Running a hand through his cropped hair, he stole a glance at the large, curved screen that took up most of the wall in front of the semicircular room.

There were twelve windows of news reels; all displayed the carnage from a few hours ago, all from different angles. Yes, it had been a massive mistake. The only upside was that Sentry Sector couldn't be held responsible for the negligence. How anyone had gotten close enough to plant an explosive on the armored prisoner carrier, Tony couldn't hazard a guess.

It had originally been his hope that the trial would go swiftly. They would get a conviction and the hackers would have been put in some maximum security slam with no access to any electrical devices. Then the Lieutenant General could have used his weight in the Alliance to push for an acquittal on Torvald's activities as C4sper. He had an argument made that Torvald's experience as a hacker--as well as his exceptional performance in dealing with Cerberus and the Aquilan Banking Trust--would be invaluable to catching other hackers. After all, the best way to catch a hacker was to use a better hacker.

Torvald had once again been taken from his com and was under strict observation. Initially, Internal Affairs had only allowed him to stay so he could negotiate with Cerberus. Now that they thought the case was over, they removed him again pending the end of his investigation. He had the idea that they were dragging their feet on the investigation. Nobody liked dealing with him as a known hacker. Then again, if they'd paid him a bit of respect, he was sure Torvald wouldn't be so difficult with them. He doubted that, with this latest development in the Aquilan Banking Trust case, the hacker would be kept from his seat for much longer.

The entire case had been blown apart--literally and figuratively. A new side to it had been revealed. Had the Knights of NI actually been working for someone? It would make sense to silence them. By why wait so long? Greco growled to himself. He didn't have the answers. It would probably take C4sper, Cerberus, and Sentry a while to assemble the pieces. He had no doubts that Cerberus would let this slide. Furthermore, Aeacus, Cerberus' spokesperson, seemed to hold respect for C4sper. If he wanted Cerberus' help... he'd need Torvald to liaise.

Tony's dark expression made others wary to approach him. The Director, he was sure, was just as frustrated. Normally, the end of a case like this would have meant that Greco could leave the main chamber of Sentry and return to his desk job of authorizing this and that; the floor would be the Director's. That wouldn't happen for a while now, though. It looked like he and the Director would have to be careful not to step on each other's toes for a little longer.

"Mjollnir's com is being pinged," someone called out from the floor. By now, everyone knew what that meant. Subsequent measures were taken to turn off the alarms that were raised, and those that would be raised shortly thereafter.

Antony sighed. This wasn't going to be fun.

"I'll take it," he said, calling Torvald's com up to the main screen and assuming executive control over it from his master console.

Moments later, a message appeared on the screen in a text file.

#Private Discussion Channel: F1me.#

Then the intruding presence was gone. It was succinct and no banter was given. He couldn't tell, but his guess was that Cerberus was not in a good mood. Tony logged into the PDC and waited. He could already see that Aeacus, Minos, and Rhadamanthus were already present.

#Aeacus: What the Hell happened?#

The Lieutenant General let out another beleaguered sigh when his guess was confirmed.

#SentryCom02: As best we can tell... sometime between 07:00 and 07:15, an explosive was placed on the armored prisoner carrier. It was probably remotely detonated, not on a timer... either that or there was a proximity signal that caused the bomb to go.#

#Aeacus: Who would do that?#

#SentryCom02: We don't know. As of yet, we have no leads.#

#Aeacus: Do you have any idea _why_?#

#SentryCom02: Unfortunately, everything's too new. We're still trying to figure out _how_ it happened exactly. We've no suspects or motives.#

#Aeacus: We have nothing, then? Nothing at all? Then how can we--what do we do now?#

He could almost _hear_ the confusion and disappointment coming off the text. Probably because those were the same questions that bounced around in his head at times like these. He hated to give her this answer, because it was never satisfying.

#SentryCom02: We'll do what we always do. Gather evidence, see where it takes us.#

Her response came quick and angry. Her frustration mirrored his, #Aeacus: Damnit, this doesn't make any sense! They were going to be locked up, anyway! They weren't supposed to die. I didn't want them dead.#

#SentryCom02: Neither did we, Aeacus.#

#Aeacus: Is C4sper there?#

The sudden track change gave him pause, then Greco rubbed his forehead in frustration. This was where things might go south. The best he could do was be forthright with it and hope for the best. Tony began typing out an explanation, #SentryCom02: Internal Affairs removed him when the case went to trial. We were hoping to get the charges against him dropped after the trial... But since this happened, he'll probably be back soon.#

#Aeacus: ...I see.#

For a moment, he wondered what would come of this. He supposed there was nothing to do but wait. It was a tense two minutes. Finally, another line of text appeared.

#Aeacus: I usually wouldn't ask something like this... but I need to know. It's important to me on a moral and ethical level.#

The Lieutenant General blinked. Whatever it was that was bothering Aeacus, it was personal. He could see the reason for her hesitance in bringing up such a question.

#SentryCom02: Go ahead. I'll do my best to answer.#

#Aeacus: Could anything I did have led to the Knights' assassination?#

Greco was quiet for a moment as he considered the connotations behind what Aeacus was asking as well as the answer to the question itself. On some level, the hacker felt guilty for what happened. He could see that could happen. When solving some cases, it didn't always turn out well. After all the hard work one put into something like this, most people the hoped and prayed for a fairytale ending. When it doesn't happen, some people blame themselves; if they had been more careful, had been quicker, or any number of 'what-ifs.'

He honestly thought it over. Tony read all of Cerberus reports, their activity throughout the case and how they had finally come upon the Knights' coms. Everything was meticulous, stealthy, and expertly executed. Nothing about it screamed reckless. Even so...

#SentryCom02: It's extremely doubtful. If someone was aware of what you were doing, then it would have made more sense to kill the Knights before Sentry ever got to them.#

#Aeacus: I suppose so.#

It was time for the gamble. Officially, of course, they didn't make deals with known criminals. It was all a cock-and-bull story, though. So far, even though Aeacus did not follow their rules, it was clear they operated within some very strict rules of their own. Tony wasn't sure how this would fly, but he'd be willing to take the heat for it if it all went bad. If it didn't, then Cerberus might just bring them justice once again.

#SentryCom02: Perhaps you could aid us again.#

The hackers' answer was almost immediate, #Aeacus: How?#

#SentryCom02: Is there anything in your research that struck you as off? Something that had no answers before?#

#Aeacus: No. Wait. Yes.#

From his slouched position over the monitor, suddenly sat upright. Well, he hadn't been expecting that. #SentryCom02: What was it?#

#Aeacus: Remember that message we dropped off about the previous robberies before the Aquilan Banking Trust?#

#SentryCom02: And you said you didn't know where they were going. Over so many years, they'd filtered several millions of UDs.#

Tony sat back, considering that. This was a lead. A big lead. There was probably someone who stood to lose millions of stolen UDs if the Knights give them up. That was certainly a good reason to kill them--or pay to have them killed.

#Aeacus: Yes, but all the money was withdrawn periodically from the accounts. It was all done via com, as well... but those were just ATCs.#

#SentryCom02: From which bank or banks?#

#Aeacus: ...We didn't check. I mean, we looked at the account's history, but we didn't check for who withdrew them. We thought that maybe the Knights had it stashed somewhere, but it could have been someone else. Maybe the Knights were working for someone.

#We can trace the transactions back. If we can get a name on who made the withdrawal from account, it might lead us straight to a suspect... or at least someone who might know who knows and deals with them.#

Tony found himself nodding; this was good. He quickly agreed, #SentryCom02: Very well.#

#Aeacus: Give me a few minutes and we'll have you the account and the Ident that withdrew it. You can take a look at those on your end.#

As the Lieutenant General and all of Sentry waited, he couldn't help but think that Cerberus worked well with Sentry. If it weren't against the Alliance's laws--which even the Alliance broke from time to time--he would hire a crew of elite hackers to work with his regular crew. Already, Torvald and Cerberus proved they could benefit each other. It was all fanciful thinking, though. He was shaken from his musings when a new message appeared.

#Aeacus: It seems we have a problem.#

#SentryCom02: What is it?#

#Aeacus: There are six Idents that withdraw from the account. One of them would withdraw a set amount every month, but Idents don't follow any set pattern. We froze the account activity for deposit-only. The next withdrawal was going to be this Monday...#

"Shit," Tony muttered, #SentryCom02: But it didn't happen. Because they saw the report last week that we caught the Knights.#

#Aeacus: That's my guess. So we don't know who these people are.#

Already, Antony's mind was racing. He was no profiler, but he knew enough to make a few assumptions. He might as well share his thoughts with Cerberus. Maybe they could make something of it.

#SentryCom02: It's probably one person with six fake Idents.#

#Aeacus: That could be. We'll send you the Idents. Maybe you can figure out something about them by the information on them. We'll look into them, too. If we find anything that doesn't synch up, we'll notify you immediately.

#This brings us closer to them, right?#

The Lieutenant General accepted the file transfer and sat back; he was cautiously optimistic, as always. Tony couldn't say whether or not they would ever find this person. However, this was definitely a big step. Fake Idents had to be created with some criteria. It was possible that their profilers could look at it and see what type of person would make them.

#SentryCom02: Every bit helps us come closer to a conclusion. Like I said, we'll just follow the evidence.#

#Aeacus: I'll check back tomorrow. It will take some time for me to go through all my work and see if there's anything I can do with this new information. Until then, Lt. Gen. Greco.#

#SentryCom02: Until then.#

#--Minos has left PDC: F1me --#

#--Aeacus has left PDC: F1me --#

#--Rhadamanthus has left PDC: F1me--#

Antony stood up and stretched out the muscles that had tensed during the conversation. He called over the Director. There was work to be done before this long day would end.

"I need our profilers back here ASAP. Give them the Idents and transaction histories. Also, put everyone on that account. I want to know everything we can about it."

"Yes, Sir," acquiesced the Director, but he lingered nearby.

Seeing that the man clearly had more to say, he queried, "What?"

"Should we be relying upon Cerberus like this?"

Greco gave a utilitarian shrug, but smirked, "If you were hunting and you had some well-trained dogs with you, would you try to chase the game yourself or let the dogs track it?"

* * *

WEDNESDAY

It was a good thing that the doors could not be slammed, that they were automated and only quietly hissed open or closed. It would have been terribly _unprofessional_ of him to slam the door. Sorin stood quietly in anger within his office for several moment. Finally, he moved over to the large chair and slumped against its soft support. The doctor tried to relax from the stress; it was unhealthy and clouded judgment.

There were a number of concerns that had recently come up with his pet project, lately. The work he normally did was fluff--any scientist could do _that_ work. Why anyone would want him to complete the work of a simpleton, he would never know. However, it paid well and provided him with enough free time to see to his special experiment. Lately, however, even that had hit a snag. Well, several snags.

The oft unprofessional employees he was graciously paying were trying his patience. Already, he had to reprimand some of the guards after they struck up a conversation near the specimen. With its exceptional hearing, it was easily distracted. Not only that, but their highly unprofessional subject matter would influence Specimen 74; its usage of various slang terms, though a rare occurrence, already vexed him enough.

Then there were the odd looks he had caught Dr. Soloviev giving the specimen. He already suspected she was becoming too emotionally attached to the project... to _his_ project. Sorin didn't want her taking things into her own hands with the tests, doing things unsupervised or outside protocol. The experiment couldn't suffer because she lacked objectivity! This was far too important to risk on psychological hang-ups.

On the other hand, Katherine was an extremely competent scientist. She easily kept up with him even though she was almost two decades younger than he. Maybe he was reading too much into it. Every change she had made to the tests and every suggestion she had made so far to incorporate had revealed more and more about the specimen, things he would not have thought to explore. Perhaps she was merely speculating. He'd done it enough, certainly. Sorin decided to ask her what was on her mind. If she had some ideas for the experiment, he was eager to hear them.

Excluding Dr. Soloviev, there were days when the doctor felt inescapably surrounded by incompetence. Now a new complication arose; the tests he had done so far were expensive--worthwhile, but expensive. Sorin's funds had recently suffered with the battery of tests he had performed, had yet to perform, and the wages he paid his employees. It was necessary that he seek out an alternative means of supporting his research. Paying for it out of his own pocket would almost certainly get attention upon him almost immediately by one authority or another. The doctor was not yet ready to reveal his masterpiece to the world.

There were many tests Sorin needed to run on this subject before he could pass it. It did look promising, though. If everything worked, he could well begin the breeding program within a year. Now _that_ would be a major expense... No matter how well paid, Sorin was not loaded with UDs!

He sat up straight in the chair, invigorated by the possibilities running through his mind at future prospects of this experiment. This week's tests were impressive; he could just imagine a full set of specimens after the breeding program was started. With his mood improved, he began to type.

_Weekly Report_

_Week 319_

_ Over the course of this week, I have tested the various senses of Specimen 74. As I expected, its physical prowess far surpasses Human levels._

_ The gymnasium was fitted with cylinders of varying width and height. The largest was 60 cm in radius and 0.5 m tall, and the smallest was 10 cm in radius and 5 m high. The thinner poles were taller, and thus provided a challenge of an incline while testing the specimen's balance. The height difference was 4.5 m; the wider cylinders placed in rows of four, then separated into rows of two as the radius of cylinders decreased. The thinnest cylinders were placed single file until they reached the climb rope._

_ The exercise was explained to the subject, and it was given thirty seconds to prepare. Specimen 74 deftly navigated the poles without falling at running speed. Whether this is natural instinct or luck I cannot say. The subject did not touch a pole longer than necessary to leap to the next. For the multiple rows, it ran on all fours, only shifting to a bipedal motion when the cylinders reduced to a single row._

_ To gauge whether this was speed or actual balance, we had Specimen 74 balance on each of its limbs. Much like a primate, it used its hands and feet to balance. In a pleasant surprise, the specimen is also capable of balancing on its tail by coiling the end of the limb to provide a small base._

_ Friday's test involved hand-eye coordination. I had an assistant toss balls of varying size and color to the subject, who was then to throw them in the specifically colored baskets set at varied distances. The assistant gradually increased the rate until he had tossed all balls to it. Once again, Specimen 74 used its tail to bat the smaller balls and catch the larger ones. Incorrect throws were minimal, 46/50 balls made it to proper baskets, with 3 incorrect tosses, and 1 miss._

_ I performed the reaction time test myself on Saturday. I set up a screen in the subject's room. After explaining the test to it, I returned to the observation room and randomly activated the screen to display a bright color or play a sound. The specimen pressed the key to turn off the stimulus. Average reaction time is 150 ms visual and 120 ms audible._

_ Sunday the ophthalmologist and audiologist tested Specimen 74's visual acuity and hearing acuity. The visual acuity test is 6/4.8. The audiogram results reveal a range of 12 hertz to 120,000 hertz. This matches what I have estimated due to the varying pitches of echolocation._

_ Considering the subject's fastidious tastes in food and drink, I ordered tests for olfactory and taste senses on Monday. The specimen's sense of smell far dwarfs Human levels at an estimated 95 times average. Its sense of taste matches averages for Humans._

_ Tuesday, I decided to take Specimen 74 back to the subterranean tunnels again to test its senses against that of its DNA donor. I lit only a quarter of the tunnels. The DNA donor caught a pig in 3 minutes. The subject captured its prey after only 1m 6s. Hypothesis: intelligent hunting using reasoning and logic skills assisted the specimen._

_ -Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research_

He saved the report and sat back, staring at the long list of reports on the com with a strong sense of satisfaction. It was truly an impressive creature. Sorin's anger was mostly soothed and he felt ready to go about this next week. There were a wide range of psychological tests he wished to complete. It would give him a baseline for just how intelligent Specimen 74 could be. He was already anticipating remarkable results.

For now, he could put financial concerns behind him. The problem had been partially solved, but that had been an expense in and of itself. Even so, he didn't doubt there would be another resource he could tap. There was always a way to gather more funds. All that mattered was the experiment. He would change the universe as Humans knew it.

Sorin stood up. It was time to speak with Katherine; as the one with the best record in behavioral sciences, she would be administering this week's tests. He wondered what she would do when given a chance to _truly_ excel in her chosen field. It was time to find out. The doctor grabbed his lab coat and left for the observation room next to the specimen's room.

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Well! It took me a while, as usual, but I finally got this bastard done. This was a big chapter. There's lots of important stuff here that will be either a turning point or the start of big parts of the story very soon as well as much later in other arcs. Lemme break some scenes down from my perspective!

Zimmy's got her hands full. Then Nick comes along with a new bombshell! It's a race with Toombs. I liked this because it's getting everyone on the same page... and they all seem rallied against Toombs. So bleh to you, Toombs. Never liked ya, anyway! Heh. But the plans are coming together. Between Urchin, Riddick, Nick, Kiara, Zimmy, Eve, and Terry... it seems there's a strong pulse on all Toombs' activity. However, Toombs has always been a slippery one.

Also! I threw in some second-hand drama. Zaira's got her eye on a guy. You don't say no to the girl with guns. Heh. I'm not likely to do anything big with them, as they are tertiary characters, but I never really forget about 'em. Sometimes I get to wondering, "what's the rest of the universe doing?"

Next up is Rachel's assistance with her marksmanship. I couldn't help but throw in a kudos to a certain war movie... I thoroughly enjoyed the mental image of Rachel when Riddick takes the gun's halves apart. Just a blank stare and "WTF?" Heh.

More of Rachel is up next, and we have Mr. Deckard challenging the students (but everyone knows it's mostly aimed at her). And we have the newest trashy romance novel! I do believe she's quite addicted to them. Heh. If you're wondering, yes I did think through the plot of _Siren's Call_. ... My God, I could write that. A bodice-ripper. ...I think I'm scared of myself.

At Navigear, Inc., I was very amused at the various antics of our two main protagonists. Jack impatient and Riddick grabbing a guy by his tie just makes me laugh. At the same time, I can just see him doing something like that. It's his own fault... you don't keep Riddicks waiting, it's hazardous to your health.

Next, there's Tuesday. This is a big day. I had lots of fun writing Tuesday. It's a hugely major plot point and we'll be referring back to this one a lot as we go!

Firstly, Kane comes by with the new cockpit. I really liked the idea of Riddick turning the whole thing into a lesson with Jack. Never a moment where you can't learn something new with him. Heh. But then we come to the drama. BOOM. Who saw that coming?

The subsequent shock for Rachel was something I really wanted to convey. I hope I got the right emotions into them, it was supposed to be a very powerful scene. Then there's Jack. Two steps forward, five steps back... and nobody even realizes it, yet! It's rather hard to catch those hidden events in her life when she keeps locking them away like that. Will she ever find resolution? Stay tuned to find out.

Ah... _Sphinx_. Welcome to the introduction of this previously mentioned character. His history is shrouded in mystery. He's been very careful to conceal everything. I can tell you he played a _large_ part in shaping the events, and there's plans for the future, too... What part will he play behind the scenes? How has he been manipulating events so far? What will the leader of the Riddlers do now? Once again, you'll have to stay tuned.

The talk with Sentry took a different note than it usually did. Now there's a common enemy. No longer is this a mere cryptoterrorism/grand larceny case... it's a _murder_ case. Now it seems that Cerberus and Sentry will be working in a tense partnership. Things like this usually don't work out too well; there are too many conflicts of interest. Can Lt. Gen. Greco mitigate those conflicts? We'll see.

I told you in my profile that this was coming. Sorin's back. It seems that he's getting a little paranoid, doesn't it? As always, he's possessive of his experiments. His intentions just keep getting darker. That breeding program is foremost in his thoughts. What would he do with a bunch of Specimen 74's? That's a scary thought...

The general theme of this chapter was that nothing went well for anyone. The title of the chapter said it all...

"_The best laid schemes o' mice an' men_

_Gang aft agley,_

_An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,_

_For promis'd joy!_"

* * *

NEW GLOSSARY ENTRIES:

Kaneonuskatew "Kane" Wesakechak

Sigma 3

Sigma Strikeforce Academy

ATC

Flitter

Ident

V-Arms Training System

* * *

THANKS:

Finally, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Thug, Beth, and Vince for all their help! Thanks guys!

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	25. 25: Divergence

25

"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde

**Chronicle of Darkness**

By Lynx Klaw

_Chapter 25: Divergence_

The girls were stressed. Jack didn't mention anything, but he could tell something had changed in her mood recently. Whatever it was, she was covering it well. That likely wouldn't last. If she started to let it fester, he'd probably talk with her. There was no use having her go into another _girl mood_ for no apparent reason. Riddick didn't understand and wasn't sure he wanted to know what had caused them. For now, however, he would let it run its course... weather it like the sandstorms of Nemaeus 4.

Rachel was another matter. She had been quite vocal about her issues. Riddick could understand her frustration. She had orchestrated events and set a plan in motion. The escaped convict had seen a lot of plans go wrong while he was on the run or in prison. Things rarely worked out the way anyone wanted them. Even so, she seemed to be at rest with the matter. She was disturbed that those hackers had died, but now she was resolved to find who was pulling the strings.

Riddick saw trouble ahead with both of them. Big Evil didn't know how to handle these types of situations. Even so, he didn't worry much on it. He functioned on a very simple set of philosophies for life and survival. The bald man hesitated to call them ethics, because sometimes the things he did went directly against his survival philosophy. That was Fry's fault... but also partly because of Jack.

Rachel's problems were ones that he could not help. The best he could do was to give his support, which equated to not telling her to stop her nigh-obsessive focus on it. So long as she was careful and didn't bring the DoD to his doorstep, he didn't care if she was helping Sentry Sector. While Riddick knew his way around a com, Mouse had an extremely intimate knowledge of all their intricate little workings. The things she could do and the information she could find surprised him--sometimes made him wary. He decided to leave her to it.

Jack looked fine and wasn't giving anyone the cold shoulder, so he guessed she was dealing with whatever was troubling her; she would probably come to him privately if she needed to talk about it. She always had when they were on Chillingsworth's jumper, when she felt that Imam wouldn't approve of that little, dark, _uncivilized_ part of her that was growing. Riddick knew all about the animal side, taught her how to embrace it. If she could get over her past, she would be magnificent.

Even so, he could see that they weren't focusing on the here and now. Jack was stuck somewhere in her head, likely in her past, and Rachel was pondering some hacker's deaths several systems away. That wasn't good. Maybe they needed to get off the ship for a while. He could take them to lunch--he'd insist Jack joined them, this time. A little time to relax was necessary; too much stress made people snap.

A late, leisurely lunch sounded good.

* * *

Ten after fourteenth hour, they were sitting at a table of an Italian restaurant. Rachel was finishing the last of a chicken breast filet on angel hair pasta. Jack had already tucked away her Tuscan chicken alfredo and was listening to Rachel relate some story from her childhood. Unsurprisingly, it had to do with coms. Riddick chose to savor his food, but he was nearly done with his medium-cooked Bistecca alla Fiorentina as he listened to how the redhead explained her interest in coms.

"-when Dad taught it to say hello. Programmed it with some minor AI so it could hold simple conversations and perform some commands. I remember trying to ask it something--like it was a real person; I don't really remember what I asked, anymore. But it just said, '_Invalid Request_.'

"I asked Dad what it meant and he said something like, 'Well, Vixxie, we can-'"

"Vixxie?" Jack interrupted questioningly.

Rachel nodded, "It was my Dad's nickname for me, 'cause my hair is red like a fox."

"Ah," Jack noised her understanding.

'_It's better than 'Mouse,'_' the shorter girl mentally appended, then continued recounting, "Anyway, he said, 'We can't expect the dishwasher to wash our clothes like our clothes washer or to play music and run vids like our big com. Machines are built to do certain things only. Programs are the same; they can only do what they were created to do. Humans have limits like that, too. We can't fly like birds or breathe underwater like fish.'"

"So you started this whole com-stuff a while back, huh?" Jack clarified, and then added quieter, "Hacking and stuff?"

Again, Rachel nodded. She still remembered talks with Gavin D. Ferrel when she was in middle school. When her father had died, Gavin often talked with her. Kept her busy, sometimes consoled her. They were friends, despite having never met. Then Sentry had caught Gavin. She tried to find out where they took him, and cracked the Department of Defense's security to do it. Gavin's case file said they took him to Crematoria; he would be gone for good. Rachel had one less peer to speak with her. Her friends from school didn't really understand her or her thirst for knowledge; it was hard to relate to them.

The redhead went to Sentry Sector. She needed to do something, needed a challenge. The redhead sought more information... something--anything--to keep her occupied and out of a depression. That's when she found the Sentinel program. Minos and Rhadamanthus weren't real people, but they were just as voracious for information as she was. They filled a void until she met Jack and Cassandra when she switched schools for high school. Soon, the programs shaped up into wonderful AIs. Between the two executables, Jack, and Cassandra, the girl pulled out of the long funk following her father's death.

Rachel came out of her quick reverie, realizing that she had left the question unanswered. She quickly filed away her introspection for later. It would be rude and embarrassing to space out about it now.

"Pretty much, yes. Ever since then, I was interested in coms. I found others who were interested in them, too. Other hackers. I was always asking questions and trying new things with almost every com I came across. I wanted to find their limitations and see if I could push 'em. ...Like my com-pad. It's custom."

Jack frowned, "But I got one just like it when I started at the academy, too. It's not that special. ...I did have to leave mine behind when we left. I guess it's a good thing you managed to get the one I'm using to synch up with the school."

Rachel waved it off with a small shake of her head, "It just took a V-ID reassignment. Your com-pad was still on for some reason, too; so I was able to pull down the files from it. Anyhow, my com-pad is custom. When I got it, I was curious. So after the second day of school, I finished my homework and took it apart."

The brunette blinked and canted her head to the side.

"Why'd you take it apart?"

"I had some better parts lying around and I wanted to tinker with the OS. Then I kept fooling with it. It has a better screen, now... I also buffed its interface and enhanced its overall performance by switching out its layered board--don't ask me why they used _that_--for a flat plate I tweaked a few years ago so it would quad-process instead of bottlenecking along its primary bus." The mouse made a strange gesture that was lost upon Jack and Riddick. She pointed in the air on an imaginary board to a nonexistent part of it, "Otherwise, the firmware I wrote into its processor would have needed a swap-file cache in the hard drive. That'd just make it one big mem-stick. How stupid is that? Worse, the cue buffer woulda been terr-"

"You know that I've no idea what you're saying, right?" Jack interrupted after she finished the last of her chicken.

"...Oh."

During the following break in the conversation, three finally left the restaurant. As he paid, Rachel was quietly explaining to Jack--in layman's terms--what she'd done to her com. They were walking down the sidewalk when Riddick stopped them.

"Got somethin' I need to see to."

Then Riddick took a right at an intersection instead of left to the shuttle-stop. Rachel glanced to Jack, but she just shrugged. They followed him for about two blocks before he stopped. Both girls looked at him expectantly. He seemed to be searching down the street for something. Finally, he turned to them.

"Stick here, I'll be back in a few minutes."

* * *

Urchin frowned as he swatted a wadded, fast-food wrapper out of his alley with a broom. How the fuck did people miss the trash cans? There were two on every block! He might live on the streets, but this was _his_ spot. People needed to learn to keep their useless shit out of his home. Urchin moved back to the alcove to put the broom in its place. Muttering a few choice words about pedestrians, the kid came out to inspect his dark alley... and found a darker silhouette resting against the wall near one of the mouths. It was Richard.

He approached the guy and leaned against the opposite wall. It was better that way, since standing near him required Urchin to crane his neck all the way back just to meet Richard's goggles. There was less neck strain this way. Richard rarely came by at the same time every day, he noticed. Even so, it was always before sixteenth hour. It kept Urchin on his toes.

"Saw ya out earlier. Who're the babes?"

Richard merely raised a brow, but didn't answer. That was answer enough, though. There would be no explanation.

He shrugged, "Right, anyway... nothin' today. A little commotion a few blocks down early this morning--saw 'em loadin' a body into an ambulance. Lotta gawkers. Cops're still sniffin' about it. I'd avoid the spot."

It was more than Richard intended to hear, he could tell. Nonetheless, it was also helpful and the large, bald man recognized it. Urchin could practically see the gears turning as the man processed that and then came to whatever conclusion he had to about it. Richard pushed off the wall and dug in his pocket.

Urchin approached and took the UDs. Then Richard nodded and left the alley. The guy never spoke a lot, but he didn't have to. Most everything Urchin needed to know about Richard was explained through the man's actions. The street rat didn't give it anymore thought. Right now, he was looking forward to something fresh and warm to eat.

* * *

THURSDAY

Nemaeus 4. A fucking ball of sand and shit. He'd seen plenty of planets like this. Just because a planet had an atmosphere and was deemed habitable didn't mean it _should_ be inhabited. Toombs snorted as he set down in the hangar bay of North City. Normally, he would have skipped this planet and moved on, but station security had informed the merc not-so-subtly that they would prefer he refuel and leave if he wasn't planning on sticking around or making any business deals. It had to be those fucking Zolus. They'd shadowed him _everywhere_. Nobody would talk to him or even look at him half the time. With them, however, some just altogether left the area.

'_Fuckin' cockroaches._'

Toombs hoped someone on this blasted heap of sand had some sort of news. He'd spend five days here... no more. The merc didn't have time to waste in this system. After all, it only made sense that Riddick would be dusting this place off him as quick as he could. The bald bastard had to know there was someone trailing him by now. No reason to stick around here.

Toombs' last crew had been useful in bailing him out of that frozen ice-giant. They'd stopped by from the distress beacon he'd first followed when he was trailing Riddick. He told them about his bounty. He wasn't eager to share, but it got them to take him where he needed to go. They were dead now, most likely. Big Evil would have seen to that. Toombs wasn't about to stick around and play martyr.

Now he was using their ship. It was better than his sardine-can of an undercutter. Riddick wasn't stupid. If the guy knew that Toombs had survived both on U.V. 6 and Helion Prime, the escaped convict also knew he still had a tail. That meant Sir Shiv-a-lot would be on the move... and probably be harder to trail now that he knew someone was following him. Riddick would take evasive maneuvers.

It was eighteenth hour, here. There was still time to get some initial scouting done. He could find out where to look today and start in earnest. Even if Riddick hadn't been here, it shouldn't take too long to discern that. It didn't matter whether Big Evil knew he had a tail or not. Toombs would find him.

He was too close to give up. The third time's a charm, after all.

* * *

FRIDAY

At 9:30, Cassandra sat in her half-finished Government class, slowly absorbing Mrs. Riker's lecture on the benefits and drawbacks of a Communist administration. The woman went on with diagrams of monetary flow and the like. Cassie dutifully copied them onto her com-pad, which she would later be studying for the test next week. She wondered, idly, where Audrey and Rachel were. Could they be on a world with one of these governments?

A blinking message on her com-pad's screen startled her. She quickly checked her in-box and found a message from Chelsey Rileigh. Cassandra just barely managed to suppress a noise of surprise. She didn't open it just yet... The dark-complexioned girl had a study hall next period where she could read it freely. For now, however, she quickly cancelled the notification and closed her in-box.

The blonde impatiently waited for the class to end and was slightly distracted, but got all the notes down that she needed. She could always read that part of the book again when she got home to get anything she missed. Mrs. Riker's lectures usually mirrored the book in theme, if not verbatim.

Half an hour later, the chime sounded over the intercoms. Cassandra had a study hall this period. She knew she could excuse herself to speak with another teacher. Mr. Carver was lenient with how their students spent their time in study halls, so long as they were keeping busy and didn't have other work to do. Since Cassie was a good student in his AP Literature class, he'd probably let her go without questioning it.

Within five minutes of the late bell, she approached Mr. Carver and he excused her to run her errands so long as she returned before the bell. She quickly made her way to the gym locker rooms. She didn't know when Mrs. Zimmerman's period off was, only that the woman held Phys. Ed. four days a week. Cassandra had her classes Mondays and Fridays. If it had been Wednesday, Zimmy would be mostly available all day...

'_Here's hoping I catch her at a good time._'

Cassie, her com-pad in hand, quickly made her way for the gym. There was no guarantee that Zimmy would be there, but she could always check the faculty lounge next. As she entered the girls' locker room, she passed the lockers and checked Mrs. Zimmerman's office. The door was open and it sounded like the coach was inside.

"-kind of altercation?"

Cassandra winced at the deceptively calm, cool tone that hid little of its displeasure, '_She doesn't sound happy. So much for a good time._'

The voice over the com answered, "Councilman Alfarsi approached your assets. They claimed that he was verbally accosting them."

* * *

'_Oh, Hell,_' Alexis thought. If memory served her, she had Councilman Alfarsi's daughter in one of her gym classes. In fact, she was in the same class as Audrey Knight and Rachel Rileigh had been. She didn't have to wonder why he approached the mercs. "Is that all?"

Zimmy pinched the bridge of her nose and prayed it was. She had requested specific orders regarding the two mercs. So far, everyone had observed it. Well, until now.

"No, Ma'am. Mr. Chen tried to reason with Councilman Alfarsi, but he refused to calm. Mr. Chen gave him a verbal warning; Ms. Logan said he mentioned the sanction. The Councilman shoved Mr. Chen to the ground. Then Ms. Logan struck the Councilman unconscious. Almost immediately afterward, the Guard arrived and attempted to arrest her. It's because of this attempt that we needed to contact you. Your jurisdiction in this matter supersedes that of the Guard."

"Goddamnit. There _is_ an Alliance sanction that specifically prohibits interference with them. It's not just a formality! The sanction doesn't just include the Helion Guard, but the whole of the Council, as well. This goes beyond them; Logan and Chen _must_ be ready to go in five days. I will _not_ have some shortsighted Council member delay the mission. How are Logan and Chen?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand. Mr. Chen was fine. Ms. Logan was slightly fatigued, but Mr. Chen saw her back to the hospital. We do not expect this will cause any delays."

"Good. ...Please send my apologies to Councilman Alfarsi, but also inform him that the sanction _still_ stands. None of this would have happened if he had simply adhered to the orders of the sanction."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"One last thing. This wasn't so much a report as it was a vague note. I shouldn't have to call anyone to discover what happened. Next time anything involving Mr. Chen or Ms. Logan occurs, I want a detailed report sent to me as soon as possible."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The vid-call ended and Zimmy sighed. Eve Logan was walking, but under orders by her doctors not to attempt any strenuous activities. Her newly healed leg muscles were not yet strong enough to endure the stress. Even so, Logan was restless and could not remain cooped up in the hospital. There was an unstated agreement between her and the doctors; they didn't want her straining herself and she wasn't going to stay inside, so she would have an accompaniment if she chose to exercise beyond the hospital grounds. Terry was her accompaniment. The mercenaries had thankfully never strayed far from the hospital, as Logan's legs still tired easily.

Councilman Alfarsi was the most vocal in his complaints against the Lupus Guild. Recently, many of them had lodged such complaints. That also included the Fortuna family. Alexis winced at the thought. The Fortuna family had quite a bit of weight among the Helion Council and she expected more complaints would follow theirs. The Fortunas had left two and a half weeks ago; Lynne Fortuna with her parents as part of her internship. That was probably for the better. While the Fortunas were not part of the Helion Council, it heeded--perhaps even favored--that family.

At least Adela and Aodh had merely lodged their complaint and not requested support. That likely would have garnered most if not all of the Council. The Alliance would have had a rather difficult time playing down complaints from a full planet's dignitaries. So far, the sanction had kept things relatively quiet. Chen and Logan were hers and under Alliance protection. Toombs would probably be 'unavailable for questioning' and never show up for any court hearing desired by the Council. Dahlven and Reis... well, they were _dead_.

'_I have politicians, private academy schoolgirls, prison escapees, and persecuted mercenaries. I'm only lacking pirates and pious fanatics... then I can call this mess the beginning of the end._'

The light knock at her door was unwelcome just then. Before she could check herself, she responded in a terse demand more than a polite answering.

"_What_?"

She regretted it as soon as the word was out of her mouth. The sight of Cassandra standing there, looking wary and apologetic made her take a breath to calm herself. She shouldn't be taking out her annoyance on students.

"I'm sorry, I was just-"

Alexis shook her head, "It's alright, Cassandra, I'm just stressed. I shouldn't have snapped at you. What did you need?"

Cassie held up her com-pad, "I got a message last period. It's from Rachel... She mentioned something about your 'independent contracts?'"

Mrs. Zimmerman reluctantly nodded in affirmation, "That's why I'm stressed. One of my contractees just punched a council member."

Cassandra's eyes went wide, "What? _Why_?"

Alexis realized it would be best not to wrap up Cassandra in these events. She was using the girl as a smalltime informant, but didn't want her involved any further. She shook her head.

"He was pestering those mercs I found. He started it, they finished it."

"The mercenaries you're sending to find Riddick?" Cassandra clarified.

"Yes."

"I suppose they would have to keep out of trouble, wouldn't they? It would be more difficult for them to do anything if they were locked up for assaulting one of the Council." After that statement, a light seemed to come on in Cassandra's head. She blinked and stared at Mrs. Zimmerman, "Wait, they're not locked up. You kept them out of prison. Not just now, but after they went after Riddick in the school. How did you manage that? I thought you weren't in the military anymore...? Is there some kind of cover up? Did-"

Alexis interrupted her, "I can't go into it, Cassandra. It's Alliance business and I'm not allowed to-"

"A _secret mission_?"

Cassandra's voice rose and pitched high with the same kind of young awe and enthusiasm she saw in the locker room before classes. Alexis had never seen Cassandra participate in gossip, but she couldn't take the chance that the girl might consider this too juicy to keep to herself. The Lieutenant General firmly stamped down any notions the schoolgirl might be getting with an even tone, in the process reminded the young woman to keep her voice down.

"_Cassie_. I can't talk about it. And neither can you."

She saw the blonde pause and consider what she said. After a moment, Cassandra nodded. Even so, she could still see the curiosity whirling around in the girl's head. Before Cassandra could ask any more questions, she gave the girl a distraction.

"Can I see the message from Rachel?"

It seemed to do the trick, as the young Demetrios' mind completely shifted gears to the original reason she came to see Zimmy.

"_Oh_, right. It just came last period. I figured you should see it, since it mentioned you and her mother."

Alexis took the offered com-pad and read the message displayed on the screen.

* * *

_ Dear Cassandra Demetrios,_

_ Hello, again. My mother said you and Mrs. Zimmerman spoke with her. Thank you for going to her. Without Rachel there, she's alone and I don't want her to become too depressed. Until I get there, I would appreciate it if you or Mrs. Zimmerman would keep checking on her. I can't make it home yet, but I'm still trying._

_ Since you are a good friend of Rachel's, I hope you will keep up with events on Helion for her for when she returns. I'm sure she'll appreciate the updates. I'm sure I could use some whenever I get there, myself!_

_ I was also hoping you could get a message to Mrs. Zimmerman for me. We've recently spoken and I understand she has some independent contracts. I will be telling Ricky and Jacquelyn about them soon. I don't know if they will work well together, but I'll do my best to smooth things over. I will contact her after I've spoken with them._

_ Thank you for doing this for me, Cassandra. You are one of Rachel's best friends and I am glad that I can rely upon you in these stressful times._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Chelsey Rileigh_

* * *

"Well, this matches what I was told in a previous conversation. She was worried when I mentioned the mercenaries. I imagine she's sent a message to her mother, too. Perhaps I should go see her mother after school. Thanks for bringing that to me."

This could go several ways, Alexis realized. It was entirely possible that Riddick would want to speak with her. With the knowledge that Rachel could very well send communications straight to her com, it could happen. There's also the chance that Riddick might disappear from their radar completely--they were only seeing ripples of his actions, as it was. If that happened, it would be Hell finding him, especially if he didn't want them to find him.

Cassie nodded to her, "I want to go with you. Mrs. Rileigh is alone now and I wanted to see how she is holding up, anyway."

"That's fine. I'll probably be over there around eighteenth hour," Zimmy said with a shrug. She then held up the com-pad, "If Rachel sent a message to her mother, we should be able to take both of them and get some insight into what's been happening."

With her contacts, Nick especially, she should be able to piece together the recent events. Mrs. Zimmerman had to hand it to Rachel, the genius girl certainly knew how to reach out and contact her resources. It was amazing the things that young woman was doing.

'_And to think, we first thought that her sending homework was amazing,_' she thought with a small, ironic smile.

Cassie accepted the com-pad back from the coach, "That sounds good; I'll be there after an early dinner. My parents are working late and it'll just be me there."

Zimmy seemed to think of something just as Cassandra was leaving, "Cassie... What about your sister? Dawn graduated a few years ago; is she still with you?"

Cassie shook her head, "She's got an apartment closer to college. She visits on the weekends."

"Alright, I'll see you around eighteenth hour at Mrs. Rileigh's, then."

Cassandra nodded and returned to her study hall. Alexis remained sitting there, thinking over everything she had to do. Then her com chimed at her. She checked her messages and found that a senior officer had filed a full report and sent it to her. It detailed the 'altercation' between Chen, Logan, and Councilman Alfarsi, and the reminder that they had sent to the Helion Guard as well as the Helion Council concerning the sanction.

'_Well, that should take care of_ that_..._'

* * *

Amber looked up as Dr. Tachygnic's fourteenth-hour appointment arrived. These two were an interesting pair. They had all types at the clinic and she couldn't hazard a guess at what the girl's problem was, but the Rileys were different somehow. They held obvious conversations, but they were impossible to follow; they conveyed most everything through nonverbal cues and silent messages. A frown or a tilt of the head was worth several lines of dialogue.

Beyond that, Mr. Riley was _built_. She never said anything--she didn't want to get in trouble for being unprofessional--but she was sure the other office assistants had noticed, too. He looked a bit young to be Jacquelyn's father, though she understood he was her legal guardian. She wondered at the dark goggles he wore. However, like many, she didn't dare ask him about them.

Today was different from the previous two visits. Richard had a little cut on his cheek. Indifferent and unflappable as ever, he staked out a chair while Jacquelyn came over to sign in. It was then that Amber noticed the young woman had a black eye. She had a very small smile, though; so small that she thought it might have been a trick of the light. Jacquelyn set the pen down and moved over to the chair beside Richard.

Immediately, she leaned over to Richard and began speaking lowly. This was the first time Amber had ever seen them speak verbally. In addition, Jacquelyn seemed animated. The first time she came here, she looked ready to bolt. In fact, she didn't even spend the whole appointment's allotted time. The second time she was very sober and quiet. The young woman left the same way, as well.

Richard muttered something back to Jacquelyn and the brunette smirked and chuckled, then she continued their quiet banter. Amber wished she knew what they were talking about, but she couldn't even hear the sound of whispering from them, so low were their voices. Then her com gave a soft tone and she noted that Dr. Tachygnic was ready for his next appointment.

"Jacquelyn, Dr. Tachygnic will see you, now."

Both of them stood and moved down the hallway, still speaking quietly between themselves.

* * *

"-bangs his head on his desk. He wants to work out a deal. Asked for his ship's codes... He says, 'Shit, Riddick... you wouldn't.' An' I say, 'Wouldn't what? What wouldn't I do?'"

Jack snorted and chuckled as they made their way to the doc's doorway.

"So... what'd you do with the warden?"

"Tied him to a chair in my cryo-suit and put my goggles on 'im; taped a gun with an empty clip to his hand, too. Left dressed as a guard with Johns at gunpoint. Other guards rushed the office as I was leaving."

Jack's eyes widened, "So his own guards come in and turn 'im into Swiss cheese?"

"Yep."

"That's nefarious!"

"I have my moments."

Riddick opened the door, but didn't follow her into the office. She turned to him and noticed he was still there, which meant he had more to say. Jack paused and her eyes met his goggles. She canted her head to the side.

"I got some errands to run. Should be back before you're done. If I'm not back, wait about fifteen... then take a shuttle to the docking bay."

* * *

Jack nodded. Mr. Riley left and Jack turned to face Dr. Tachygnic. She moved over to the seat farthest from the desk, as per usual. It was possible that she sat there more out of rote than an actual aversion to him, now. It was hard to tell with her.

Vincent immediately noticed Jack's black eye and raised his brows. He had wanted to address a few things today, but that took a back seat to discovering what brought her in looking as she did. He broached the topic politely as always.

"Jack, how have you been this week?"

"Okay, I s'ppose. Been kinda... stressed, lately. Hasn't all been bad, though. On Saturday, I got to talk to Sebastian--he heads our gang on Daedalus. A while ago he got in a fight with some fuckin' Zolus an' they shot him up with somethin' called 'Rush' and he's been recovering from that. He's doin' a lot better now, but he still needs exercise to get himself back in shape.

"Monday sucked, though, 'cause the fuckin' imbeciles at Navigear apparently don't know shit about organization. We were there on time, but they didn't have our order prepped _or_ a free forklift. We had to wait on 'em... and then the storm started, so we were stranded there 'til it was over."

She huffed and crossed her arms. Vincent noticed she was more open than usual. This was good; he didn't know the cause of her candid outspokenness this session, but he wasn't questioning it.

"We got a new cockpit, too. Some techie-guy with a name I can't pronounce came over installed it. That was Tuesday. Rick's gonna take me out sometime this week and let me get acclimated to the new controls.

"While they were installing it, one of my friends caught the news feed of those guys that hit the Aquilan bank. They got blown up--hit her hard. Some kinda bomb; thermite, I think. Wasn't paying much attention. She's got family on Aquila Major, so I can understand where she's coming from."

"Yes, I saw that too. It's a shame, really, when justice is stolen from us."

Jack shrugged, but frowned as she pointed out, "Maybe, maybe not. Those guys probably died 'cause whoever was pullin' their strings didn't want 'em squealing. Whoever did it hasn't showed their face, yet."

"That's true. We'll just have to wait for the Alliance to clean up the mess."

"Well, _that_ inspires confidence," Jack sarcastically responded.

Right about that time, Jack seemed to realize that she was rather talkative. The therapist actually _saw_ her building the walls between them, her amiable nature disappearing behind a mask. Even so, he was still concerned about her black eye and figured he shouldn't beat around the bush. What he had seen of her so far told him that Jack was a person that appreciated a straightforward approach.

"How did you get that bruise over your eye?"

Jack flushed and looked out his window. Then she shrugged and muttered, "It's stupid, really. 's not important."

Vincent frowned. Normally, she didn't shy away from questions. She usually answered with the bold, bald truth whether it was pleasant or not. At worst, she told him off. This sudden reticence worried him.

"Jack... do you have problems with any type of domestic violence with Rick?"

She stared at him blankly, "Domestic violence? ...I wouldn't say it was a very domesticated thing to do."

"How did it happen?"

She blushed again and crossed her arms with a frown. For a moment, she was silent--likely debating on how or whether she should answer his question. In the end, she sighed and glanced back out the window. The girls face reddened slightly more.

"It's mostly my fault..."

Vincent was about to interrupt her, but she continued before he could reassure her. He decided it was best to hear the whole of events before he commented.

"I should've been more careful; was so focused on what I wanted to do that I wasn't paying attention to what _he_ was doing. But I was tryin' to land that damn spinning heel kick. So I try to set it up with a punch--kinda overhead, with a spin to set it all up," she said, moving a fist slowly through the air in mimicry of what she had done, "But he was going for my ribs with _his_ right. Problem was, I leaned left and down when I threw and... _bam_.

"Fuckin' laid me out. I came to pretty quick, but we stopped after that 'cause I was all wobbly. I think he musta felt bad about knockin' me out, 'cause he didn't lecture me on it. Heh, then again, maybe he thought that served as its own lecture.

"'s what happens when you're not payin' attention, y'know?"

Dr. Tachygnic was quiet for a moment after her explanation, "You two fight often?"

"Yeah, evenings on every other day. I'd been practicing the combo that morning and wanted to see if it'd work. ...Didn't, obviously," she finished in a mutter. Then her resolve returned and she declared, "Just wait 'til Sunday. I'll get 'im with that spinning heel kick before he takes me down."

"Takes you down?"

"Rick says I'm good on my feet, but I need work with ground stuff. If someone gets me on my back, he wants to make sure I know how to fight 'em off. Tonight we're gonna go through some arm locks."

From the sound of it, most of this was talk of self-defense. It made sense, he thought as he recalled the first session; Mr. Riley had disarmed Jack of the piece of metal. If he was the one teaching her these things, it was understandable that sometimes she might receive some injuries. It would have saved some time if she had simply mentioned that at the beginning. It likely hadn't crossed her mind, though; he couldn't say why.

"I see," he said to fill the gap of silence that followed. Finally, he moved on, "So it sounds like you have fared moderately well this week. That is, aside from picking up your cargo and your... mistake."

Jack shrugged, "Guess so."

Vincent blinked, once again noticing a shift in her mood. She had been particularly expressive today. Now she seemed to be reverting to her quieter manner. He wondered what caused this sudden shift in mood. He decided to let it slide--for now; he would return to it soon enough. They had most of the hour left, after all.

"Jack, today I wanted to go over some of your early life, before you left for Daedalus Station. Can you tell me a bit about your life here, on Nemaeus 4?"

Even as he put his request forward, he could see the tension build in her shoulders and arms, the careful stillness seize her frame, and her jaw clench. She was uncomfortable with the topic. She was uncomfortable with almost all of her past, though. They needed to discuss it, anyway. Vincent rested his elbows on his desk, leaned slightly forward attentively while he waited patiently to see if she would start without prompting.

"I was born here, in North City. Hasn't changed much," she said calmly, almost blankly. Then she added, "-which sucks. Grew up happy as I could be, considering how this insidious little ball of shit likes to siphon the happiness out of anything it touches. Early on, my life's kinda unremarkable; guess I was still a bit of a tomboy. Liked to play with the boys at school and rough house, but I don't think I was much trouble."

"Who were your parents?"

Jack glared at him so darkly that he sat back in his chair.

"I'm telling you this much, Doc. I don't like to talk about my past, not even with Rick. I'm only telling you this shit 'cause Rick wants me to an' you say it's confidential. Honestly, I don't trust you as far as I could throw you. You've already heard more than I'd like, don't try to squeeze me for more."

Dr. Tachygnic held his hands up in a placating gesture, "I wasn't trying to squeeze anything out of you, Jack. If you don't feel like telling me, that's okay."

Jack huffed, "You say that, but you're the one trying to dig her up. Nemaeus is all _her_ story. When I left this planet seven years ago, I buried her _deep_. All you 'n' Rick can think to do is... is exhume her. What the fuck do you want with her, anyway?"

With some blessed foresight, Vincent did not claim that she and this buried girl were one in the same. It sounded, considering Jack's dislike of 'her,' like a very bad idea. He knew now was not the time to push. He had seen what happened when she was pushed--she went silent, as she had on that first day. Doing so would completely destroy what little rapport he had built thus far.

"I'm concerned with _you_, Jack. I don't know anything; I'm working in the dark. You have to appreciate that I can't help you unless I know what I'm dealing with. You have repressed memories, so how am I to help you with them if I know next to nothing about you? I'm not psychic. I need to learn about you in order to find the best way of approaching this."

Jack looked like he'd just fed her something bitter. Getting help meant sharing the past and she had given him a very clear picture of her thoughts on _that_. Even so, she wasn't giving up; at least he had managed to direct her stubbornness in a useful direction.

"Fine," she nearly spat. The brunette huffed and squinted slightly, "She was a normal kid, I guess. Shit changed when she was nine."

"Can you tell me who she is?"

"I'm _not_ saying her name. She's in a shallow enough grave as it is."

The therapist blinked, "You said you buried her deep."

"There isn't a hole deep enough to-... Look, can we just stop talking about her?"

"Okay, okay. Please continue."

"When I was nine, my parents died. I told you about that."

He nodded.

"After that, she got weak. She couldn't cut it. I knew it was just a matter of time. I got shipped to my aunt and uncle. I told you 'bout them, too. They just _berated_ her. She got angry... and scared--didn't know how to deal. What could _she_ do, anyway? I was fuckin' nine years old."

Vincent frowned. She was bouncing back and forth, as though unable to decide how she should refer to herself. Somewhere during this time, she needed someone strong--stronger than whoever she had been. She didn't want to be this nine-year-old girl anymore. That's why the change, the masquerade as a boy. It was a common thought that boys were stronger, more resilient; that was why she tried to become a boy. Males they were also less of a target for sexual predators, so it made sense.

"Those assholes all but killed her in those two weeks. I picked up the pieces and made a new life. Got the fuck out of there and ran straight to Daedalus. _I_ survived, not _her_! She never woulda made it on Daedalus. Jack did, though. Jack was tough; I knew 'he' would survive. That's why I created 'him.' Soon Jack just kinda took over every aspect of my life.

"One day, I suddenly realized: _she_ was gone. There wasn't enough left of her to be anything. That's when I decided to close the door, y'know?" She tapped her temple. Her green eyes stared directly into his, but it didn't seem as though she was really seeing him. "Closed the door and locked it. I made sure nothing of _her_ would ever see light of day again. Wouldn't be safe."

Dr. Tachygnic mentally shook himself from the almost stupefying, green gaze and pulled himself up. Jack noticed and her monologue stopped.

"...What?"

"You say you 'close the door.' That's an interesting way of putting it. What do you do when you close the door on something? What happens?"

"It just goes away. Usually, I forget all about it 'til somethin' reminds me and I have to go stuff it back. Shit's like a cluttered closet. You cram it back, get that door closed, and lock it. Then it's safe. Nobody can tell there's anything there. After long enough, you begin to forget what's behind doors like that--sometimes you forget there ever was a door. Still, 's gotta be a mess, right? Best not to bother with 'em."

His mouth opened, but no sound issued for several seconds. Finally, he found his voice, "Jack... you're describing repression. It's not healthy. If you feel like 'closing the door' on anything again, please contact me _immediately_. I'll speak with you and we can deal with whatever the problem is, okay?"

"...Imam said the same thing."

"Rick left you in his custody on Helion Prime, correct?"

Jack nodded.

"You repress your memories symbolically by closing the door, Jack. When that door opens, as you say, things come spilling out. It was the same with the Zolus when he pulled you into that alley and it was the same with Rhiana."

She flinched at the mention of those events, "It's fuckin' scary. I gotta _relive_ that shit as it comes back."

"If you remember anything or feel like repressing anything," he reiterated, "call the office; I'll have them put you through to me--to my home com if necessary. We will need to handle this very delicately, Jack."

Jack nodded again, shifting uncomfortably.

"Let's take a short break from this; I can see it's upsetting you. We'll approach it later, okay?"

Once more, Jack quietly nodded. Her thoughts were obviously on the many doors she'd closed. Jack pinched the bridge of her nose. There was a slight pressure in her temples and forehead--not quite pain, but disorientation--when she thought about it. The discomfort was nowhere near as severe as her emotional turmoil just now. Imam had been so worried when he'd heard. She thought he was just overreacting.

That memory of the Zolus was terrifying. She could clearly remember closing the door on it long ago; had forgotten about that particular door existed. Jack couldn't believe it. That was the repression? Fuck all, if it was. She had been right when she had spoken about this with Riddick.

"...I'm a fucking basket case."

"No. You're not," Vincent firmly countered.

"You don't understand! Do you have any idea how many doors I remember closing? That's not even considering how many I don't remember, since it's been so long. No clue what's behind them--if, if that's repression... I don't wanna open 'em. Not if somethin' like that's gonna happen every goddamn time!"

"Jack, calm down. We _can't_ address everything right now. This is something that's going to take time. For now, let's focus on something else. You mentioned earlier that you've been feeling stressed this week. Is there any particular reason why?"

At first, she seemed reluctant to move on, but he watched her draw a deep breath. She held it for a moment and closed her eyes as she exhaled. The tension in her frame marginally lessened. She looked out the window for a few seconds before responding to him. He allowed her this time to gather herself and her thoughts.

Jack shrugged, "Not sure. Just been edgy; can't tell why. Sometimes I'm okay, but then I just get a mood swing or somethin' and I feel like someone's lurkin' about. But nobody is. I know I'm... abrasive and suspicious... but I'm not paranoid. I just don't know why I'm... edgy."

She couldn't think of a better way to describe it other than 'edgy.' Jack felt like she sounded stupid, but it was the truth. The doc nodded easily and seemed to consider it thoughtfully. He wasn't immediately casting aside her worries.

"Can you pin down a specific time when you first started feeling that way?"

"Um," Jack noised and paused, frowning as she tried to think about when she first started feeling restless and worried. When did that unidentifiable dread start appearing, her mood souring? She squinted for a moment and then tentatively answered, "Sometime Tuesday."

"Well, let's run through Tuesday. What happened that day?"

"That morning the techie came over and installed the cockpit. He was there through lunch and into the afternoon. Took a while, but I stayed in navigation; the techie and Rick were talking about the cockpit and Rick turned it into a lesson, explainin' what did what. I really liked that; getting to see what part does what in the cockpit, 'stead of just knowing that pressing a button does an area scan. Learned how it sends messages to the scanners and how the scanners relay information to display on the HUD..."

"That doesn't seem to be the cause, then. It's more interesting than it is distressing. What else happened?"

"Not much happened that day. I did my usual workout in the morning, ate, worked on sharpening a few blades, and did a bit more training that evening. I didn't have any weird dreams or nightmares..."

'_So that's what she'd been doing that first session; she'd been sharpening a blade _in my office_... No wonder Rick took it away from her,_' Dr. Tachygnic thought.

"Ah," he toned, giving her pause, "You mentioned that your friend was bothered by the car bombing. That was something of note."

"Yeah, Rachel was watching it on the news while the techie-guy was installing the cockpit. She wanted to see 'em rot in a slam after her-... I think it was her grandparents on Aquila Major... after they suffered from the heist. Then they just up and blew to smithereens. Kinda screwed her out of her satisfaction."

Vincent nodded, but his thoughts were on another event. Jack mentioned that her parents had died in a hover-car accident. The two events were not identical, but similar. People of note died in hover-vehicles. Since they had just been talking about her past, he figured it would be fresh in her memory. He cautiously broached the subject.

"Did the bombing remind you of anything? Anything personal?"

He saw the brunette frown, her green eyes flicking back and forth in an attempt to make a link. It shouldn't be that big of a jump. The seconds ticked by and she still had yet to come up with anything. In the end, she blinked and sat back. Jack rested her elbow on an arm of the chair and rubbed her temple with a thumb, still frowning. That disorientation she had felt earlier was starting to grow into a painful throb in her temples and forehead. She gave a shrug with her other shoulder.

"No, not really. I feel bad for Rach, but the whole thing doesn't have anything to do with me."

She sounded wholly disinterested in the topic. He had been making notes throughout their session; his writing things down as she spoke no longer seemed to bother her. The therapist was relieved when she did not seem bothered as he noted this peculiarity. There was something to this, but he had to tread carefully.

* * *

Twenty minutes after fourteenth hour, Riddick found himself back in the commercial district of North City. The shuttle had reeked, but he was swiftly learning to block that out. He wanted to find the kid and check in with him. It never took long, but he wanted to be back before Jack's session ended. He wasn't sure how long it would take him to catch a shuttle from the commercial district back to the business district.

He quickly spotted the two storefronts tightly squeezed together that created a narrow, dark alley between them; Urchin's dwelling. The kid wasn't by the alley. There weren't many people on the streets, either, as it was still during the workday and just after lunch. People had probably just returned for the second half of their day. He peered into the alley and slipped his goggles upward.

Due to the narrowness, light only filled the alley when the sun was directly overhead. Light was encroaching on the tops of the buildings. During the next hour, the sun's rays would creep down to the floor of this alley. Nemaeus was a standard-sized planet, having 30-hour days. For him, that meant minimal desynchronosis when switching to the waking hours of planet-side time from whatever Standard time happened to be.

For now, however, it was too dark for average eyes to see. Riddick hopped the dumpster and peered into the dead-end Urchin used as his den. The kid wasn't there. He hopped down and turned around. Urchin was leaning against the mouth of the alley, staring inside casually. When Riddick emerged from the darkness, the kid's brown eyes locked onto him and he lifted his chin.

"Heard someone in there, figured it was prob'ly you. Let's head over to the pizza parlor, yeah?"

The deviation from their usual deal made something inside him twitch, but he slid his goggles down and acquiesced, "Sure."

He followed the kid into the parlor. Urchin ordered a deluxe quarter-size slice and a medium vanilla Coke. Riddick bought a large regular Coke just to keep appearances. He was getting a strange feeling, and he was decidedly _not_ thirsty. Urchin took his plate and moved far into the back of the parlor, taking a table in the corner away from the windows. Riddick's wariness grew, but he took a seat and leaned his elbows on the table.

"Where're your girls?" Urchin asked blithely, appearing curious.

"..."

The boy got the idea. Richard wasn't about to answer anything about the girls, apparently. Wasn't any of his business, but he put as much forward for the guy.

"Okay," Urchin accepted the answerless answer, "Well, I got some news for ya today. Wherever your girls are, you might wanna go pick 'em up and be elsewhere. I mean--if they're with ya, that is."

_ "Are you with me, Jack?"_

_ She slowly came back to him, realizing the pain in her hand from clutching the shiv so tight, "I'm with you."_

He blinked behind his goggles, "They're with me." Riddick's frame stilled and he paid more attention to his surroundings. The escaped con didn't feel like he was being watched, but that didn't help him settle. "Saw Toombs in town, then?"

"Yeah. The Big Evil's officially got a tail. Didn't look like he had anyone with 'im."

Riddick snagged his drink, sat back slowly, and glanced toward the windows while sipping at his Coke. Urchin was not oblivious and snorted.

"Re_lax_, he ain't even here anymore. I sent 'im to The Cliffs."

Big Evil clearly didn't get the meaning. It showed on his blank--well, blank_er_--expression.

"Okay, you're not from around here, so I'll give ya the quick 'n' dirty version... You're in North City; it's the second-biggest city and the main colony. It goes from middle class," he said as he waved toward the people working behind the counter of the pizzeria and then gestured to himself, "to no class. It's settled just below the North Sea--toxic waters filled with nasties unimaginable. By the southwest corner o' the city, we got the spaceport an' docking bay--prolly where you landed, if you came here on your own ship.

"South of us is Central City; the richies' place. All the tycoons, suits, politicians, factory owners, and fancy-ass high class live there... in their fuckin' condos and skyscrapers. They run this rock 'cause they control the industry."

Urchin looked annoyed with the system, but he didn't rant. He understood things like this wouldn't change and refused to waste his time on things he couldn't change. The kid continued quickly with his geography lesson.

"To the West is the Ant Farm. It's a desert filled with formicids an' anteaters. The Western Sea serves as their watering hole. You don't gotta worry about that 'cause nobody goes out that way. Now, you go _way_ down and you'll find the Southern Gate, which is the only safe way into the Southern Plateau and the Southern Desert. Penitentiary is there, 'cause there's no place to go even if you escape."

Riddick grunted at that, immediately reminded of Butcher Bay and its mine-filled desert surrounding the triple-max slam. He idly took a sip of his drink. Urchin gave him an indulging smirk.

"I see you're gettin' impatient, so I'll get the point of all this shit. Ya go East of here and you'll hit the Northern Plateau--The Cliffs. We call 'em The Cliffs 'cause they're the tallest walls on the planet. The wind hits 'em and does all sorts of crazy, evil shit. If you're going over there, you need a guide used to flyin' in high winds, else you'll wind up slammed to the ground or into the rock face. And even with the best o' guides, well... 's a matter of luck, y'know."

"Only place on The Cliffs is Highland City. They're mostly miners and that sort... and they don't like outsiders, _'specially_ the suits."

Urchin took a moment to tuck into his pizza a bit more, then continued, "So when this Toombs guy came sniffin' about, I made sure he saw me. Hooked the greasy bastard _easy_. Showed me a bounty card 'o you, talked to me like I was some kinda stupid, lost puppy. Acted like I didn't know what he was and what he was doin', like I'd rat for a few notes. _Tch_..."

"Told 'im ya went to The Cliffs. Be at least three days before he's back... _if_ he makes it back. Worst winds are out that way and the people ain't friendly."

Riddick took this in carefully and deliberated over it. This whole thing was pertinent, somehow. Did he believe Riddick was in Highland City, then? Had Toombs sought a guide? Had he bothered heading to The Cliffs? ...Yeah, Riddick decided, the stupid fuck probably headed out there, to the most dangerous place he could--and probably without any guide.

Then again, Riddick realized, Urchin might not have bothered to tell him he even needed a guide. The very idea was amusing. He took a longer sip of his Coke. As amusing as that was, he was annoyed with the kid. It was a dangerous game he was playing, handing misinformation to a merc.

"...Got his prize first, though."

Urchin held up a UD card, its little display reading '100 UD.'

'_Misinformation _and_ taking their money,_' Riddick appended. If Toombs survived, he would be madder than Hell, both at Riddick and at the kid, though not likely in equal measure. He shook his head in exasperation at the risks the Urchin took, "Fuck, kid... You _know_ better than that. Don't _ever_ stick your neck out! The Hell's wrong with you?"

Urchin shifted uncomfortably in his chair, staring at the pizza. His voice was quieter, not a mumble, but a subdued tone, "I was just tryin' to help."

The words struck Riddick with how much he sounded like Jack in that moment. Even the phrase was something Jack would say. He sighed and eased off intimidating the kid. Again, the silver-eyed convict shook his head.

"Always watch out for yourself, kid. You can't help anybody if you're dead," Riddick explained. He then called up what he had once told Jack five years ago, before he left Helion. They were basic and simple rules, but they were the foundation upon which he built most of his current life. "You gotta know the scene and the score. Don't become predictable and always look for things that're outta place. If something looks wrong, don't go near it. Somethin' looks too risky, find another way. Plan for a situation. Make more plans. When you're done with them, make other plans for other situations.

"Do all that--all the time. Do it until it becomes second nature... 'til it becomes instinct."

Urchin's mahogany eyes focused completely on him; much like Jack when she listened to him give instruction. The kid was soaking up everything, too; the similarity was almost eerie. He was a survivor... If he kept his head, he'd do well for himself.

Riddick reached into his pocket and dug out four of the 50 UD cards. He slid them across the table to Urchin, who was quick to pocket them. The bald man glanced out the windows again.

"Lay low for a while. Toombs comes back here, he'll be pissed."

"Yep," Urchin said lightly, though his eyes were serious. He chomped at the crust of his pizza, "Been a real slice."

Riddick grunted and a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk crossed his lips. Then he stood and left the pizza parlor. He had to get back to Jack--_now_. It was time to get the Hell off this rock.

* * *

"Jack, I'd like to return to that troubled feeling you had earlier."

Jack had been filling him in on some specifics about her life on Nemaeus 4, but it was like pulling teeth. When she had mentioned burying her past, he hadn't thought of the pervasiveness of it. Even when he asked if she had friends in elementary and middle school, he did so in measured pace and with careful questioning. She never gave names. He could count on one hand the number of proper nouns she'd used; sometimes naming an ice cream parlor she once visited or a brand name of food or clothing she once enjoyed.

She repressed things because she wanted a complete dissociation between 'Jack' and '_her_.' The less of 'her' that existed, the less worried Jack was. Avoidance and escape was her answer to her problems. It was why she repressed memories, why she ran away, and why she didn't want to be in the Nemaeus System. It was difficult to work with, because Jack was very adept at avoiding issues and circumventing his attempts to draw answers out of her.

Currently, he wanted her to accept the possibility that there was a likeness between the bombing and her parents' accident. Vincent wasn't sure what it was that made her uneasy, but he was absolutely _certain_ that something about it was linked. The girl studiously ignored any cross-reference or likeness to a point beyond reason.

"You mentioned that the bombing didn't bother you. Are you sure that is the case? How _did_ the bombing make you feel?"

"...I didn't like it," Jack said, a frown developing as she began massaging her temple again. She had a headache developing; started a few minutes ago. It could have just been stress.

"Few people would, Jack. It's an unsettling thing to see people killed."

Jack shook her head, wincing slightly as that agitated her headache, "I don't really care about that. If it weren't for Rachel having an interest in the case, I wouldn't give two shits about the whole thing. I just didn't like the suddenness of it all."

Vincent noticed the worsening of her headache. He noticed the physical symptom occurred when he brought up topics she refused to speak of or claimed had no relation to one thing or another. Now that he was looking for it, the doctor could clearly see the jumps in her reasoning--the way she shied away from things she found too uncomfortable to discuss.

As much as he hated causing her pain, it served as something of a detector for her issues. It told him when he was nearing a landmine. Slowly but surely, he was getting an image of the battlefield, as it were. That was a perfect way to describe Jack's issues: a battlefield.

"I see. Can you explain a bit more?"

Jack nodded gently, eyes closed and her frown deepening, "I don't like the sudden upheaval of it all. I mean, one moment they're right there in front of you--living, talking, thinking. The next moment, they're just... nothing. The only thing left behind is a wave of fucking heat on your face and it almost never goes away."

Vincent's scribbling paused, '_What did she just say?_'

Jack had claimed to be _nowhere_ _near_ her parents when their hover-car crashed. That slip seemed to indicate a first-person experience. How was that possible? Of course, there were many answers. However, given her habit of repression, she might have repressed the events and fabricated events to cover it. If that was true, not only did he have no idea what really happened, but they were also on the verge of a breakthrough!

The therapist didn't know what would happen when he pushed this, but he prepared himself for just about every outcome.

"Heat?" he prompted.

* * *

Vincent Tachygnic prepared for just about every outcome--involving Jack. Unfortunately, other factors in the world were in play. Riddick burst into the waiting room and immediately ran down the hallway, completely ignoring the protests of Amber.

* * *

"Yeah, just this awful _warmth_. It's... it's like-"

The door splintered open with an almighty crack, ripping off its top hinge and hanging awkwardly from the lower one. It squeaked in protest. Jack had all but exploded out of her seat, now on the side of the chair opposite the door, a knife drawn. There, standing in the doorway, was Richard Riley.

"We gotta go."

Jack lowered her shiv, blinking at Rick. Finally, her mind kicked in and she said the only intelligible thing that crossed her mind.

"...Huh?"

Vincent, who had recoiled into his chair, angrily sat forward and surveyed both Richard and his door. Not only had Rick shattered his office door, but he had also shattered Jack's near-acknowledgement! She had very nearly solved one of her problems all on her own, with just a bit of gentle prodding. If only he'd had a few more minutes!

"_Damnit_! What do you think-"

Riddick interrupted him to reiterate, "Toombs is planet-side. We gotta go. _Now_."

Jack's brows lifted and then fell into a frown, "I thought he wasn't going to come here unless somethin' gave 'im a reason to."

"Shit happens."

"But," Jack began, then her eyes turned to Doctor Tachygnic, "_You_. You said everything was confidential!"

Vincent blinked at the accusation; his mind suddenly blanked. A word echoed in his head, '_What?_'

The lack of response seemed to anger Jack, her frown deepening. Suddenly, the girl stalked forward and vaulted over the desk! She grasped him by his shirt and shoved his wheeled chair back until it slammed into the wall. With both hands gripping his shirt and her one hand still holding a crafted knife she had pulled from--well, pulled from _somewhere_, the blade was uncomfortably close to his neck.

"Who have you been talking to?" Jack demanded.

"What?"

"Do _not_ fuck with me, right now! I've got a killer headache, I'm short on patience, an' you're the _only_ one who has any clue about any of us!" Her voice had risen, as had the hand holding the blade. With only one hand on his shirt, she lifted the blade and put its point near his left eye. The tip of the blade clicked against his glasses. "Who've you been talking to?"

Vincent leaned back into his seat, but she kept the blade at his lens, "Wh-what?"

"Listen, you lying sack of _shit_, I will c-"

"Jack," Riddick once again interrupted, "We don't have time for this. We gotta go."

"But we don't know what he's said or who else knows or... or anything!"

Jack was right. The shrink was a loose end, but if he had told anyone about them, then they needed to know what he had said. There could be several more loose ends to cause infinite amounts of trouble later. Riddick growled; he had hoped for a clean break.

He personally didn't know what all had been said during these sessions. They would have to get the truth out of him later. They also had to leave. Riddick made up his mind.

"He comes with us."

"_What_?" Vincent sputtered.

The girl roughly shook him once by her grip on his the shirt. The point of the blade pressed on the lens, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The doctor could have sworn she _growled_ at him. Jack continued to antagonize Vincent.

"Say 'what' one goddamn more time!"

A mere hand on Jack's shoulder was mercifully enough to make her relent. The brunette backed away and glared at the therapist. Richard assumed the space she vacated, but his eyes were still on the young woman. She exuded energy, as though she longed use the weapon in her hand. The girl crossed her arms, looked the very picture of bottled up aggression. Staring at her warily, Doctor Tachygnic just then regained his wits and remembered what Richard had said. He looked up and met the frowning expression of the imposing man standing between him and the vicious teen.

"Y-You can't just _take_ me somewhere against my will... that's abduction!"

"That's why we ain't abducting you. You're gonna leave of your own free will, and then you won't be coming back."

The seriousness of Richard staring at him with those goggles prevented him from retorting.

"Jack's gonna run out of here like the devil's on her heels. You're going to run out after her; you will yell, 'Jack! Wait!' I will be running out after you. We will meet up in the stairwell, where we'll leave nice an' peaceful back to the spaceport. If you think about bolting once you're outside, Jack will be waiting ahead of you and she'll gut you. If you try to warn someone here on the way out, I'll be behind you and _I'll_ gut you. You understand?"

'_This can't be happening!_' Vincent's mind protested, but he then Riddick had grasped his shirt and hauled him to his feet. He found himself forcefully shoved between Richard and Jack. He glanced between them anxiously. "But I--I can't just-... You can't _do_ this!"

"Sure we can," Jack replied with a simplicity he didn't feel the situation warranted, "And I hope you can, too. Might not live much longer if you don't."

"But... but _I haven't told any_-"

Richard interrupted him again, "We don't have time for this. Jack?"

The girl met his goggles and nodded once. Then Richard moved behind him and put a large palm, heavy with the weight of a warning, and jerked his chin at her. Jack's expression suddenly turned fearful and disturbed--an obvious ruse, but nobody outside the office would know it. She then bolted from the office. In the hallway, Doctor Tachygnic heard grunts and a few thumps. Jack likely bowled over a few people in her faux flight.

"'_Jack. Wait._' ...Go," Richard murmured into his ear.

Immediately after that quiet reminder, the hand on his shoulder moved to the middle of his back and propelled him forward. He stumbled out into the hallway and remembered the threat--if he didn't follow Jack, Richard was right behind him. There was no choice. He looked adequately flustered for their false situation and took ran after the brunette, who was already near the mouth of the hallway. God, but she was fast!

His sense of self-preservation made him go through with this mad scheme. Vincent hurried down the hall after her. She had just reached the waiting room when he remembered what he was supposed to say. The doctor's heightened anxiety gave his voice the volume and emotion necessary for verisimilitude.

"Jack! _Wait_!"

Behind him, he heard the heavy thumping of boots belonging to Richard. There was no way he could keep pace with the girl and he suspected the only reason Richard wasn't bowling him over was because the large, bald man was watching for him to attempt something. Vincent no more wanted Richard to gut him than Richard wanted to cause a scene by gutting him. This common interest spurred the doctor to run faster and made Richard pace himself.

Amber and the other assistants behind the reception desk appeared startled but Vincent only spared them a glance, neither slowing down nor saying a word to them. He reached the entrance to the waiting room--its door had not yet swung closed--and shoved it fully open again. The panting therapist broke left and headed for the stair well. He shoved that door open, as well... and someone immediately grabbed him by his jacket.

He whirled around without control, his feet dancing along the landing as he attempted to support himself. Jack stood there, her hard, green eyes pinning him like a butterfly to a board. She kept him there and glanced to the doorway. Jack didn't release him and he didn't dare say a word to her, still fearing for his life.

Richard rushed through the door and halted before taking a nasty tumble down the stairs. At the sight of him, Jack released his suit coat and Vincent nearly collapsed to the ground. The doctor's legs began supporting him again and he looked between the two. Richard took the time to push the stairwell door shut. The convict then tilted his head toward the stairs leading downward.

Jack's expression again masked itself, becoming indifferent. Her breathing slowed and she looked as though nothing had happened. She then calmly walked down the steps as though she hadn't a care in the world. Doctor Tachygnic glanced to Richard and noticed he looked nonchalant as ever. The large man gestured for him to go ahead of him. He surmised they planned to keep him between them the whole way to their destination...

* * *

It had just hit fifteenth hour, and Rachel was busy with her calculus homework. She sat half-reclined along couch's length, head resting against one of its arms. It wasn't so much difficult for her as it was time consuming. Even so, she enjoyed learning everything she could. Knowledge was a precious commodity and she always liked to increase it. Even so, homework was something tedious that she felt she could do without.

Mr. Deckard's calculus lessons were dry, to say the least. The Advanced Com Technologies were starting to become interesting, though. That was her next goal. She wanted to do more work on that manual decryption challenge assignment! Without Minos and Rhadamanthus, she was using skills she hadn't in the past few years. Revisiting those basics gave her all sorts of ideas for programs she could write for system cracking. Of course, she hadn't any systems to crack just now, but it was always good to be prepared.

A commotion from behind her drew her attention away from her com-pad. She leaned up to see Jack rush up the side entrance and make a beeline for the cockpit. Behind her, a flustered man with dark hair and a business suit stumbled into the ship. He looked familiar, but she couldn't immediately place him. Riddick was directly behind the man and closed the door.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked concernedly, her grey-blue eyes briefly flicking to the man and then back to Riddick.

"Mouse, go get a pistol," he ordered in a tone that demanded immediate compliance.

Rachel tossed her com-pad on the couch and rushed downstairs. She quickly went into the workout room and retrieved a pistol and three clips. She wasn't sure why he needed it, but he had told her always to carry more than adequate ammunition; one never knew when they might enter a situation where more was necessary.

The redhead quickly returned to the lounge with the firearm. Riddick gave her only a cursory glance. The familiar man had not yet moved. He looked pale and was sweating nervously, but was completely silent. When she looked to Riddick for further instruction, he was quick to reply.

"The arms locker locked?"

"No, we don't usually-"

"Lock it," he succinctly directed.

Rachel nodded, sensing the tension in his frame and realizing now was another one of those times simply to do as he said. If something made him break his calm, someone could get hurt. Considering the man in their presence, she supposed his life might very well be on the line. It was best not to exacerbate the situation.

"Minos," she called out, "Lock the weapons locker, please."

"DNA-encoding now active. Please specify accepted DNA."

"Crew only."

A soft chime sounded and Minos replied, "Lock engaged."

Riddick glanced at her. Rachel shrugged. Apparently, he hadn't considered Rhad or Minos could do it. The next moment, he didn't care.

"Gonna get us off this rock and plot a course. Keep him in sight the whole time. If he makes a wrong move, shoot him."

Rachel blinked.

The man exclaimed, "_What_? But I-"

"Shut up," he snapped and then turned his goggles the girl.

She swallowed once and nodded. Whatever was happening was serious. The genius girl watched as Riddick put a hand on the suit's shoulder and sat the man upon the couch. The man grunted, but said nothing as Riddick walked into the cockpit.

She heard Jack's voice notifying him, "Hull integrity's just finishing. We're good. Pre-flight's at 12 percent. We'll be good to go in about five minutes."

The two continued to quietly converse from the cockpit, but it was too low for her to make out the rest. Rachel then turned her eyes to the man sitting down. She looked to her com-pad and headset lying on the couch next to him. She couldn't place the man, but she wanted her headset. On the other hand, he came in Riddick's custody, so the genius girl didn't feel comfortable approaching him.

"Move down," she waved to him, and then reflected that it wasn't wise to do so when holding a gun in your hand.

He practically hopped across the cushions and she retrieved her headset, settled it one-handedly upon her head, and slid her com-pad into the com-console's synch-dock. It would stay locked there during takeoff and was out of the man's reach. Then she put the coffee table between them and continued to stare at him. She knew he was familiar, but from where? Her gun wasn't trained on him, but she had no doubt she could shoot him if he lunged for her--it was a good distance to clear and the short table was in his way. She didn't _want_ to shoot him, of course, but she also wouldn't let him endanger Jack or Riddick. Their livelihood was hers at the moment.

'_Why did Riddick bring this man? And why are we taking him with us? What happened? Wasn't Jack supposed to be in her session with-_'

"Oh!"

Vincent jumped at her exclamation and she reminded herself that he couldn't possibly be comfortable. He was a sweating, nervous mess. It seemed that the doctor was catching up to the fact that they were about to leave the planet with him as their hostage.

"You're Jack's therapist. Vincent Tack... Takig-"

"Tachygnic," he supplied, somewhat nervously, still eyeing the gun by her side.

"Tachygnic," she repeated with a nod, "So why are you here?"

"I don't know! I didn't do-"

The doctor began to stand as he desperately gestured in a bid for his innocence. He froze when her gun-hand shifted with her stance. Her left palm lifted at him and then slowly lowered. He sat at her obvious command gesture.

"Calm down. Just answer the question; there's no need for theatrics."

"I didn't do anything. They abducted me," he insisted with earnest urging, this time motionlessly from the cushion.

"I'm observant, I know they abducted you. That doesn't answer the question. They wouldn't have abducted you without reason. Which means that you _did_ do something--or that they think you did."

The therapist sat quietly for several moments before explained himself as calmly as he could, "Mr. Riley kicked my door in and told Jack they had to leave. He said something about someone being there--Dunes or Tunes or something."

"Toombs?" Rachel interjected.

"That might have been it... But I don't know anyone by that name. The next thing I know, Jack has a knife at my throat, threatening me! She wanted to know who I've been talking to... but I haven't said anything to anyone--not about anything regarding her or Mr. Riley. Everything was confidential; Jack was very adamant that things we discussed remain between the two of us. And they did--nothing left the office! They wouldn't listen!"

Rachel was quiet for a moment as she digested that.

"We're clear for departure. Next window is in six minutes," Jack's voice drifted from the cockpit, "Find a seat and strap in."

"I think there are some seats set in the walls of the lounge... Rhad, where are the built-in harness seats?"

"On the aft wall of the lounge," replied the artificial intelligence.

The voice made the man jerk slightly. Rhad's voice had that effect on people. Rachel wasn't about to leave Vincent unattended. The last time they had taken off, she had been in the cockpit, in one of the ten non-pilot seats. It was obviously better than having the inertia throw her around as she had been in the cargo bay at the start of this journey. The cockpit wasn't an option, though. She didn't trust him in there. The seats out here would have to do.

Rachel moved to the wall and found the lever for the seats. When she pulled the lever, padded seats flipped down from the wall. Then the usual cage-harnesses slid down the wall from indentations the ceiling. There were twelve seats, total. There were V-shaped chest restrains and a lap belt, as well. Every harness that would cage them into the seats also contained emergency release handles that would expel them off their hinges in an emergency.

The redhead motioned for Vincent to move to the seats. She moved back when he neared, pointing to the fourth one from the door to the quarters' hallway. She stood five paces away from him as he strapped himself in. When the padded, metal harness closed, Rachel moved to her own seat--the one closest to the door. The girl felt safer putting two spaces between them. She flipped her pistol's safety on and quickly went about buckling herself into the seat.

* * *

Vincent groaned at his misfortune.

"Let me give you a few tips..."

The man looked over to the short teen. She looked harmless enough, but she was also clearly comfortable with the pistol in her hands. Since she hadn't threatened him yet, Vincent supposed she was probably the most reasonable of this group. He couldn't believe he was pinning his hopes on this mousy-looking girl.

"If you're telling the truth, then your best chance for living through this is to calmly and truthfully answer any questions you're asked. Do as you're told and don't question Rick. Don't try to appeal to their better natures; this _is_ their better nature. You made it all the way here and you're still breathing. You _could_ be dead right now. That said, Rick and Jack are dangerous... but they're only dangerous for certain reasons. Don't give them a reason to kill you. Don't be a threat or try to endanger anyone in any way. None of us will tolerate it.

"Lastly, make yourself useful; Rick isn't one to suffer useless people. I can't say that, even doing all of that, you'll survive... but it ups your chances, so it can't hurt to try. I won't hand you some placating lines of bull and reassure you that everything will be okay. Your existence here is tenuous, so tread carefully."

Vincent stared at her for a moment. Well, that wasn't uplifting, but it was the bare truth. He was used to that from Jack. He couldn't really say whether this girl cared about him in the slightest, but she was offering some clear advice. He intended to follow it. Turning his gaze to the carpet, the therapist began trying to figure out what they would ask him and how he could convey that he wasn't a threat.

"Alright, everyone. Two minutes 'til we get off this fuckin' rock..."

There was hope, Vincent knew. It was small and it would require all his nerves, but it was possible. He wasn't a gambler, but now it seemed he was playing a game of Russian roulette. Could he dodge the bullet?

'_She's right... I survived this long. I thought they would kill me a few times on the way here--but if I can manage a little bit more... ..._'

His thoughts trailed off. The doctor wasn't sure what would happen if he managed. In the end, it didn't matter. That was his goal.

Vincent gripped the harness, squeezing its padding nervously. He had never left the planet. He'd never ridden on a vehicle capable of interplanetary commute. The man was a wreck and knew he looked it. He was about to leave the planet; leave behind everything on Nemaeus 4. His wife, his house, his job, his patients... they were forcing him to leave all of them. Vincent wanted to return to them--to his normal life. He just wanted to go home.

* * *

A quarter after fifteenth hour, the ship gave a final shudder as it broke through the atmosphere of Nemaeus 4. They were on the move again. Jack looked at Riddick, noting he was busy setting a course for the edge of the system and subsequent jump-courses for whatever next destination he had in mind. They had their cargo and all their passengers... plus one. Jack frowned.

Since Riddick didn't need her just then, she unbuckled and headed back into the lounge. The brunette dragged her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. Soon they would be away from the Nemaeus System, and good riddance to it!

Her fierce, green eyes settled upon the doctor. Rachel was already disengaging from her seat. The doc had wisely stayed put. Currently, Jack considered shoving him out the airlock to watch him vomit lungs. They needed to know what he knew, first. Thusly tempered, Jack stalked forward and sat on the arm of the couch nearest the seats.

She could see his nervousness increase under her glare, but she was unwavering. Her head was still pounding something fierce and she was in a bitchy mood. Rachel approached her and she cut her gaze over to the redhead.

"Jack...? What are you thinking?"

"Airlock. Rapid decompression."

Vincent paled and his eyes grew wider. His grip tightened on the padding of his immobilizing cage, feeling like a formicid staring at a massive snout of a hungry anteater.

Rachel crossed her arms and frowned disapprovingly at the other girl, "_Jack_!"

"What? He's a squealer. Anyway, I'm not saying we kill 'im _now_... I can wait."

"Jack, we don't know anything about the situation, yet," the shorter girl reasoned, "For all we know, he has nothing to do with anything."

Jack muttered darkly to herself, clearly doubtful.

With the ship on its way, Riddick made an appearance. He calmly strolled over to the couch to stand beside Jack. His goggles were up and he never seemed more dangerous than he did now. Of course, the doctor had noticed the man had some prowess with fighting and violence, but somehow his calm mood never seemed _dangerous_. The redhead's words came back to him; they were dangerous for a reason, don't give them reasons to be dangerous.

Riddick crossed his arms, standing there over the two girls, his shined eyes stabbing into Vincent's eyes like gleaming daggers, "Let's take it from the top one more time. Who've you talked to?"

"About what?"

"Don't dick around with me."

Vincent's grip on the padding of the harness was starting to become painful, "I can honestly say I do not know what you expect me to say... I have to talk to many people in a day--most of them patients. In addition to my patients, I have co-workers and a wife whom I speak with daily."

"Last chance," Riddick uttered ominously.

"Damnit, what do you _want_ me to say? You'll have to be more specific; I don't even know the topic of this... this interrogation, yet!"

Rachel interjected, "Us."

It was only one word, but it was more than Vincent really needed. It held behind it a wealth of meanings. He didn't know which reason was true--what could possibly make these three people fear what he had said about them enough to kidnap him. The questions whirling around in his head ever since Rick kicked in the door finally fell into order like self-aligning pieces of a puzzle. Now his mind wasn't blank; Vincent was capable of forming more than a single, one-word question. He had a train of thought and his mind raced far ahead of his mouth.

"You? What _about_ you? Why would I speak to anyone about any of you--I didn't have a reason to until today!"

"Bullshit!" Jack burst out, popping from her seat on the couch's arm. She pointed at him menacingly, "You ratted us out and got Toombs planet-side."

"Who the Hell is this Toombs?" Vincent almost demanded, shaking his head in frustration, "This is the third time his name has come up."

"A tenacious little shit," Riddick answered blandly.

"More like a shit-eating merc."

The therapist's frown deepened, "Merc? ...A mercenary, you mean? I don't know any mercenaries."

"Then what was he doing there?" Jack countered pointedly.

He sighed in aggravation, finally settling for a glare of his own at the young woman. She reminded him of a petulant child right now--a dangerous, knife-wielding child... but a child. He decided to treat her as such and spell it out slowly.

"How should _I_ know? I don't know who he is or why he would even bother. However, I'm starting to form a few ideas! You may not believe me, Jack... but I didn't give a _damn_ who you were; you or Mr. Riley."

At the signs of something resembling a spine and a clear rebuttal to her accusations, Jack stared--more perplexed than surprised. Before they could question him further, he decided to volunteer further reasoning. He didn't want them to build any preconceptions or make any other assumptions. As the shorter girl had said, he was being up-front and truthful.

"Your sessions were paid, your paperwork filled out, and you were showing up for appointments. As long as that continued to be the case, I didn't care whether you were a homeless beggar on the streets or a princess from a powerful, foreign planet! My job is to help people to the best of my ability. A large part of that involves confidentiality--my patients have to trust me. Since you brought it into question, I will say that I have never, ever betrayed that trust."

"How's that working out for you?" the street rat questioned with a level tone and blank expression.

Rachel's eyes cut to the other girl, "_Jack_."

"Oh, it was working out fine, Jack. I was even helping a young lady with some deep-seated issues before she and her guardian decided to abduct me."

Jack scowled darkly at him and crossed her arms, but didn't reply to him. Vincent still had more to say on the matter, however. He wasn't dumping his fear of these three--they still held his life in their hands--but he could still be plenty angry with them. Even so, he made sure to check his anger; it was clear and present, but not threatening.

"I _didn't_ care who you were before, but I sure as Hell do now! I don't know what you three are mixed up in, but I want no part of it. Seeing as I'm here now, I don't have much a choice. So... what is it that you want from me?"

The man's mercurial eyes were calculating, Vincent could see. There was no telling what he was thinking because his expression seemed set in stone. He couldn't tell if his standing with the man had improved or worsened. Finally, Mr. Riley broke the silence. The doctor now wondered if it was his real name, and doubted it.

"So you didn't say anything to anyone."

Vincent didn't hear it as a question. That was a demand for answers. This man was used to obedience, probably with severe consequences upon failure to heed him. He figured that much out by the first session, short as his presence had been. Dr. Tachygnic maintained his position.

"Once again, _about what_? I had no reason to care who you were. I was fine so long as I was doing my job. If you had given me a chance to explain that, it would not have been necessary to force me onto your ship."

Riddick canted his head to the side, "Think you can talk your way outta just about anything, don't ya, Doc?"

'_Demanding and paranoid,_' Vincent thought, but didn't know why. He didn't bother trying to analyze the large man right now. He was still trying to reason for his life. "No, not exactly. As that young lady pointed out to me," he said, gesturing to Rachel, "there's no guarantee I'll survive this. I am only taking responsibility for what I've done, nothing else. _You_ abducted _me_, you're also the one that ultimately decides what happens to me. I can only offer my opinion on the matter. As with most people, I shouldn't like to die. I _would_ very much like to go home, but I don't think that will be happening."

Arms still crossed, Riddick shifted and made a kind of grunting noise. Vincent couldn't decipher what it meant. It was too vague of a nonverbal cue.

"Right. So... in your _opinion_, what should we do with you?"

Jack turned her head to look him, but guarded her expression well. Riddick glanced at her only a second before returning to him. Her eyes flicked over to him and her head followed. Damnit, what he wouldn't give to interpret their silent conversations!

Nevertheless, he took his question at face value. The therapist didn't even pretend to take his statement for complete rhetorical sarcasm. Otherwise, he wouldn't be awaiting an answer.

"I would be willing to simply leave at the earliest, safest time. As far as I'm concerned, if I can get back home safely, this can all become a mere nightmare. The less I know about you three, the better." He ignored Jack's sudden snort. "It means less questions I have to answer when--_if_ I make it back home. As I said, I don't wish to be mixed up in... whatever it is you seem to be running from. Until such time, I'd prefer to stay aboard the ship."

"Why?" Rick asked, and Vincent could hear the honest curiosity in the man's voice; he could also see the gears turning, the eyes evaluating him.

Vincent shrugged, "It's better than Jack's suggestion to make use of the airlock."

The bald man turned his head to look at Jack. She frowned back at him. Those nonverbal cues were blatantly clear.

"..._What_?"

Riddick's gaze turned back to the doctor, "I meant why should we let you stay aboard?"

'_Ah,_' Vincent thought in realization. He was quick to answer, so as not to appear that he was fabricating anything, "It's about my job. The way I see it, I have only one available patient. You brought Jack to me because you felt she had a problem that you couldn't fix. She has unresolved issues and it takes a trained professional to _carefully_ aid someone in this manner. If there's a problem, I try to help the patient solve it. If it can't be solved, then I try to teach the patient some means of coping healthily with it and mitigating the detrimental effects.

"You came to me for help. If you kill me, she won't get that help. Her repressed memories can come with some large pitfalls and they can come _very_ unexpectedly. Who will help her, then? I'm sure you could dig up another therapist, but it can take months--_years_ to work through the simplest of problems with the mind.

"Unless you intend to ground yourself somewhere and stick it out, you could be doing more harm to her psyche than help by uprooting her before we're finished. God_damnit_, we were on the verge of a breakthrough when you kicked in my door!"

He struck at his harness in frustration as he swore. They had been so close! He wasn't sure he would be able to broach the topic for a while, even if they were to continue their session right here and now. Jack would be far too suspicious if he tried to steer her back to it; she needed to approach it calmly. Vincent shook his head; now wasn't the time to be thinking about her treatment. He wasn't out of the woods, yet.

Jack was staring at him again, but her expression was still carefully blank, just like Rick's.

"We were?"

"Yes--maybe. I can't say for sure; we'll never know if I don't get the chance to speak with you about it."

Riddick was suspicious, "Why should I trust you in her head? You could try to fuck her up worse; set her against me."

Vincent glowered at him, "I am _not_ in the habit of worsening my patient's problems. If you had those doubts, why'd you bother bringing her to me in the first place? As I said, starting any kind of psychological treatment and then stopping before any resolution is made can be damaging to the individual.

"Once again, I will only take responsibility for what I've done. If you kill me and something happens; if she suffers some form of relapse or a complete mental breakdown... don't blame me."

Riddick's stare was furious, but restrained. He couldn't refute the man's words, but he denied that Jack would break on him. He wouldn't allow it. Vincent was right in that aspect; that was why he had brought Jack to him. He did have doubts about the shrink, but he told himself it was better than doing nothing. Riddick needed the right tool to fix Jack's head--and he had decided to use Vincent Tachygnic.

He hadn't known that once they started, there'd be a danger in stopping. It was an oversight on his part. Riddick easily recognized how it could be a problem. If he told Jack to do something--was on some kind of multi-part solution to helping her, and she didn't have all the parts, she might just stick on the last part they reached. That could cause a downward spiral without the ensuing steps. It's the same reason you didn't doing anything halfway with an ion drive--if you left something halfway done, it could blow. Hell, it could _still_ blow if you did something wrong, even if you did everything you thought you were supposed to do.

The shrink was willing to continue the sessions, even though they took him hostage. Riddick wasn't completely convinced, but he couldn't just stop. He had no idea what the doc did in their sessions--something he intended to remedy soon--and it wasn't a good idea to stop them. On the other hand, he could be setting them up for sabotage. The escaped convict didn't trust Vincent despite his angry rebuttal.

He wouldn't sit in on their sessions, but he would be talking with the man about them. Riddick took a deep breath. That meant he already made up his mind. Still, that left them with a fourth mouth to feed. He had to figure out how they were going to work this. Exhaling slowly, he gave away none of these thoughts.

Jack was staring at him, waiting calmly for his decision. She wouldn't like it, but she wouldn't argue. Oh, he didn't doubt she would bitch about it... but she wouldn't argue with him. Rachel would accept it easily as she accepted most things, like the training he'd insisted she undergo. The doctor had stated his viewpoint; he was happy just to be alive. As long as he helped Jack and didn't fuck them over, Riddick could tolerate him. So...

"Need to think."

He approached Vincent and pressed the release button on the harness. Then he took the man by the arm and pulled him along. The doctor didn't fight him, which was a good thing. He would sooner knock him out and drag him to one of the empty rooms as walk him there. Riddick activated the room, giving it power, water, and ventilation. Then he disabled the manual door function so it would only open and close by the security pad.

He shoved Vincent inside, "Be back when I've made up my mind. Don't try anything."

The man nodded in a kind of dignified resignation and moved to sit on the bed. The door slid shut and Riddick locked it with a crew-only access. With the shrink locked away, he turned back to the hall. He saw Rachel and Jack hovering in front of it questioningly.

'_Jack's gonna hit a '_girl mood_' over this._'

* * *

**--END CHAPTER--**

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Okay, this one's been a pain in the ass to finish! But for the long wait, this sucker is 28 full pages and peaks into the 29th page. That's over 16,000 words for this chapter. I said I'd break this chapter off if it reached 27 pages... so this is pretty much where the "commercial break" happens in the series of events. This chapter and chapter 26 were meant to be a single chapter, but that would make it over 50 pages long. Since I normally shoot for 15 to 20 pages, with a 12-page minimum and a 24-page maximum, I'm already stretching into "bonus material" length.

As a side note, the master document for CoD is now just over 425 pages! That's 250,551 words of story, not including author's notes or titles. The Word document is 1.8 megabytes. I feel accomplished. Heh.

In addition, if you wanna mosey over to the Photobucket "Chronicle of Darkness" album (check the "Writing Status" area of my profile, and go to "Reference Material" under the "Chronicle of Darkness" listing), you can view some pictures of Rachel! That's right, Photoshop is my friend, and I've finally found a few pictures that I could tweak to make an approximation of her. No glasses in the latter picture; she could be wearing contacts... I won't tell if you don't!

I got stuck on so many parts of this I can't even begin to explain it. I trudged through the writer's block and I apologize for the wait, but now it's finished. I'm glad to say that I can move on. There are only a few more scenes left in the Nemaeus Arc, and then we'll be moving into the fourth Arc of the story. I promise you, this arc might have been focused on character development and uncovering more of the plot, but it will end with a bang!

Now for my breakdown of this chapter! This will be a rather long author note... You've been warned!

I'll start with lunch. I wanted to give some detail to Rachel's back-story, her history of hacking. This whole part was meant to show just how coms related to her early life. It also includes how she met the notorious Gavin D. Ferrel. I especially liked when she got carried away with her explanation.

This leads into a short Urchin scene. He's a helpful little bugger. Gotta love 'im, right? Kid has a good head on his shoulders and uses it to go above and beyond what's expected of him. It's a sure sign of his ability to excel. I also wanted to display how he feels about living on the streets; he's a street rat like Jack was, but without the gang to support him. He may not truly own much of anything, but he is possessive of his territory--it's his home.

Thursday... Toombs is back! DUN-DUN-DUNNN! The ungracious bastard is deplorable, as usual, and closer to our protagonists than he knows. It seems that Toombs doesn't appreciate much of anything unless he can smoke it, get paid for it, or pay it for 'services.' At least, that's how he seems to me. Irritable little guy when things don't go away, so he's kinda childish. I've no reason to like him, but--as with all the characters in this story--I try to write him well.

Friday gives us another look at what's happening on Helion Prime. I stalled while writing the Cass-Zimmy conversation for the longest time. It wasn't even difficult to write, in the end. It just wouldn't come to me _at all_! Finally, the idea came to me for how to start it--with a com-call about Logan and Chen. That little second-hand plot-bunny came to me and I ran with it. This scene is much like the Zaira Kassab-Diego Araya romance that happens "off screen." There will be more "on screen" Eve Logan-Terry Chen moments. One's coming up, actually. I just thought it would be nice to give a heads up on what's happening with them.

Oh, and if you're wondering who Alfarsi's daughter is? Think back to the locker-room girl-talk scene after Riddick first showed up in Jack's phys. ed. class. 'Spunky' is his daughter. She's brazen and probably got it from her father.

Next, we had Jack's therapy session. This part was big. We start out in the waiting room with more exposition of how different Jack and Riddick are from other people, how they call attention to themselves simply by being who they are. I liked the scene and the Butcher Bay reference. Those of you who played Escape from Butcher Bay... hope you enjoy the little flashback!

Then we see a talkative Jack! Will wonders never cease? I wanted to show that even Jack can spill out a story like any other girl, but you have to catch her in the right mood. Coming away from Riddick's story telling, she's in a great mood. Of course, then she realizes what she's doing and stops. The black-eye thing came on a whim a while back and I decided to give Vincent a taste of what might be considered a "Jack gap." It's just like her to be more embarrassed about doing poorly in a sparring match than how she looks with a bruise.

From there, we move into the meat of this session. Jack always gives the short version of his history to everyone. We've seen glimpses of her past here and there when something pops up, but never concrete. I wanted to share a few solid facts with people. This time, she doesn't shut out the questions. This leads to the truth of the matter: her repression.

I know it's a common theory right now that she has a split personality, but she doesn't. I guess her attempt to dissociate _could_ lead to that, but she currently doesn't have any personalities. She is simply very good with denial. That's what her repression is all about--denying the bad things in her life. Secondly, there's the whole "bitchy Jack" that's come up several times in this story. Those instances are starting to make sense, aren't they? Her cold, cruel moments are made to push away others so she can ignore things. It's avoidance, plain and simple. There will be more on this soon. I hope these scenes flesh out the major problem that's been dogging her; I really wanted to make a show of this.

We take a little break to see Urchin again. God, I love that character. Heh. Devious, isn't he? And I wanted to show his integrity. The first scene showed how he felt about his personal life and possessions. This scene shows how he feels about others--specifically those who don't give him enough credit. This scene also served as a quick geography lesson, which I wanted to do for a while. I know it came kinda late--as they soon leave Nemaeus 4, but hey... better late than never!

Are you wondering about the _Riddick Philosophies_? Well, if you are, then here you go! We have finally gotten around to most of Riddick's philosophies of life. Granted, there may be more... minor ones that come about in certain situations, but these are the major basics:

** 1. Pain's a part of life and life's a bitch. Anyone set on killing you isn't going wait for your every ache and pain to go away. The slower you are, the easier their job is.**

** 2. Always carry something. Anything can be a weapon, but you have to be able to get to it--fast. Sometimes there is no warning. If you forget that, someone's going to kill you.**

** 3. Always watch out for yourself. You can't do anything if you're dead.**

** 4. You have to know the scene and the score. Don't jump into situations if you don't know anything about them.**

** 5. Don't become predictable.**

** 6. Always look for things that are out of place.**

** 7. If something looks wrong, don't go near it.**

** 8. If something looks too risky, find another way.**

** 9. Plan for a situation, and then make more plans for it.**

** 10. Make plans for other possible situations, and then make more plans for them.**

** 11. Always conserve your energy, save it for when you need it.**

** 12. When using your energy, never use more than you need.**

** 13. Use your anger; don't let it use you. Anger is good--it's constructive. It gives people the ability to push further.**

** 14. Do all of the above all the time until it becomes instinct.**

Okay! Here's Jack's session--part two. This is a huge moment. Things start to click with Vincent. He's been trying to finagle things around and get into Jack's head and nearly hits the jackpot--no pun intended. This scene was meant to further explore Jack's repression and just how it affects her. However, this is only the end of the third arc! I didn't want to solve her problems; they're an integral part of this story. There's more to do with them, yet. She deals with her repression as the story progresses... and by the time she addresses all of her issues, we'll be quite a bit farther in the plot.

So the therapy session scene blurs into the abduction scene. Spot the movie reference? It's pretty blatant. I couldn't help myself. Heh. On the whole, I loved writing this scene. From the moment the door breaks until Riddick states he needs time to think, it was just enjoyable as Hell! I wrote the skeleton of this conversation--most of the therapy session and the abduction, that is. I knew it would be fun to write, but I had no idea just how fun it would be! If you liked the therapy part 1/therapy part 2/abduction _half_ as much as I enjoyed writing it, then I'm absolutely thrilled.

Jack's bitchiness returns during the interrogation. This is the result of trying to distance herself from the frightening prospect of her past, which was creeping up behind her--even if she wasn't consciously aware of it. It can be hard to tell when Jack is being her usual abrasive self and when she's having a mood-swing; it's subtle, but there are differences... usually seen in the severity of her response to stressors.

I had Vincent put his skills on display in a slightly different manner. The man isn't a simpering coward like Paris, but he's no Riddick. I like to think of him as a kind of... stand-in Imam, for as long as he's around our featured fugitives. He has his moments, but don't expect to see him lose his cool too often. Tachygnic's damn intelligent and knows how to use that knowledge.

Oh! I should mention that discovered a mistake in my story. I discovered it while writing Urchin's "geography lesson." I somehow mixed up east and west in all my descriptions of the layout of the planet. The "Eastern Sea" is actually the "Western Sea"... this is now reflected in the map on the Photobucket reference material's map of Nemaeus 4 and the glossary. Speaking of new glossary entries...

I decided to enter the "The Chronicles of Riddick" characters from the movie. I was saving those characters from the glossary until they actually appeared, but I don't really see the purpose anymore. Much like the Butcher Bay game, some characters are listed in the glossary even though they do not appear in the story; most of them are dead, after all. I would put in the Dark Athena ones, but most of them are dead, too! I am only including those that are mentioned in this story. Obviously, if you're interested in _all_ the characters of Butcher Bay and Dark Athena, you should play the games!

When such time comes that the TCoR characters appear, their "Chapter ???" will be replaced with a number.

* * *

NEW GLOSSARY ENTRIES:

Councilman Alfarsi

Mr. Carver

"Flirt"

Purifier

Shira

"Spunky"

Lord Vaako

Dame Vaako

Lord Marshal Zhylaw

"Girl Mood"

Western Sea (formerly Eastern Sea)

* * *

THANKS:

Finally, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Thug, Beth, and Vince for all their help! Thanks guys!

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?

-Lynx Klaw


	26. G: GLOSSARY 25

G

**Glossary**

**WARNING: THE ENTRIES IN THIS GLOSSARY MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS TO CURRENT AND FUTURE PLOT.**

**This Glossary is for CHAPTER 25. Entries on Characters, Places, and Things that have not yet appeared in the story will not be included.**

**

* * *

**

Characters

* * *

**A**

**Abbot** – A guard at Butcher Bay Correctional Facility. He was Hoxie's right-hand man. [Chapter ???]

**Aeacus** – [**OC**] The middle head of the Hacker unit, Cerberus. Rachel Rileigh assumes this hacker alias. Aeacus dislikes heavy coding... [Chapter 4]

**Aereon** – A crafty wind Elemental who knows of a prophesy involving a Furyan who will bring about the downfall of the tyrannous Lord Marshal Zhylaw. [Chapter ???]

**Ali** – One of Abu Al-Walid's charges on his journey to New Mecca. Ali was killed by grues on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 6]

**Councilman Alfarsi** – [**OC**] A member of the Helion Council. He is very headstrong and accosts Eve Logan and Terry Chen. He has a daughter whom Jack Badd calls "Spunky." [Chapter 25]

**Jaser Al-Khalid** – [**OC**] A student of Kokuei Do under Ken'ichi Kuromori. Jaser told Ken'ichi Kuromori about The Pit (Helion Prime Circuit) and sponsored him. [Chapter 6]

**Abu "Imam" Al-Walid** – A Muslim priest. He is a member of the Helion Council. [Chapter 1]

**Lajjun Al-Walid** – Abu Al-Walid's wife and mother of Ziza Al-Walid. She is fiercely protective of Ziza Al-Walid and Jack Badd. [Chapter 1]

**Ziza Al-Walid** – Lajjun and Abu Al-Walid's daughter. She attends Lucian's Academy's Kindergarten, and later Lucian's Academy's Elementary School. She looks up to Jack Badd and Richard Riddick. [Chapter 1]

**Amber** – [**OC**] Doctor Vincent Tachygnic's receptionist. [Chapter 22]

**Ami** – [**OC**] A dock worker and union representative at the Nano-Med, Inc. Distribution Center on Nemaeus 4. [Chapter 21]

**Anatoli** – A guard at Crematoria with a nose that can "smell trouble." He is Douruba's Second in Command. [Chapter ???]

**Andre** – [**OC**] An overbearing customer of Madame Marian's Roses. He was threatened and scared away by Jack Badd when he mistook her for one of the working women. [Chapter 16]

**Diego Araya** – [**OC**] A Colonel in the Ordnance Corps of the Alliance. His Zolus mirror is Zaira Kassab. [Chapter 20]

**Alexander "Xander" Argyros** – [**OC**] A man living in the underwater, underworld community of Tortuga on Aegir. He was once in the collection agency for a major insurance agency. He was falsely accused of embezzlement and fled to the Rannet System. He is now in charge of an underworld bank. Richard Riddick has an account with him. [Chapter ???]

**Arthur** – [**OC**] A hacker belonging to the triad, Knights of NI. His partners are Galahad and Lancelot. [Chapter 21]

**B**

**Jack B. Badd** – The main identity of Deirdre Richter. Her history is complicated and few, if any, know it all. She is a fugitive and Richard Riddick's apprentice and accomplice. [Chapter 1]

**Bam** – A prison guard at Butcher Bay Correctional Facility that was the champion of the ring fights in Tower 17 of Double-Max. [Chapter 15]

**C**

**Mr. Carver** – [**OC**] Lucian's Academy's instructor for Literature and Advanced Placement Literature. [Chapter 14]

**C4sper** – [**OC**] A hacker formerly belonging to the Riddlers. Known as "the friendly ghost." He paused the Stock Trade for half an hour to scroll his riddle. He excels at slipping past com guards. Torvald Mjollnir's assumes this hacker alias. [Chapter 5]

**Ceryll "The Gov" Cantaglia** – The leader of the prisoner society in Crematoria. He ran the hard end of the Benz-Kardak coda on Sigma Minor successfully for an unprecedented 17 cycles. Although arrested for 23 separate infractions, from extortion to murder, he continued to evade conviction. He was finally brought in for vehicular manslaughter. He and a few others escape Crematoria using Toombs' ship. The Gov promises Richard Riddick aid from himself and his crime syndicate should he ever need it. [Chapter ???]

**Terry Chen** – A mercenary formerly of Toombs' second crew. Alexis Zimmerman enlisted him and Eve Logan to locate Rachel Rileigh and Richard Riddick. [Chapter 4]

**Antonia Chillingsworth** – Previous owner of the Kubla Khan, collected bounties and kept them in an advanced state of cryo-stasis as "art." Jack Badd killed her. [Chapter 1]

**Benjamin "Blitz" Coleman** – [**OC**] A Zolus regular to _Madame Marian's Roses_. He's in love with one of the working girls there, Zoe Krieger. [Chapter 18]

**Aislin Connal** – Jack Badd's alias as co-pilot of the _Spirit of Langavat_. She is the business deal negotiator of Murdoch's shipping business. Aislin is Morrigan Connal's cousin and Murdoch Connal's niece. [Chapter 11]

**Morrigan Connal** – [**OC**] Rachel Rileigh's alias as broker and com specialist aboard the _Spirit of Langavat_. She is the accountant in Murdoch Connal's shipping business. Morrigan is Murdoch Connal's daughter and Aislin Connal's cousin. [Chapter 11]

**Murdoch Connal** – Richard Riddick's alias as captain and pilot of the _Spirit of Langavat_. Murdoch owns a shipping business. Murdoch is Morrigan Connal's father and Aislin Connal's uncle. [Chapter 11]

**Jack "J. J." Jarret Connors** – [**OC**] A shy boy who is the only one to ask Audrey Knight to dance during the Lucian's Academy school dance. He later asks her out on a date. [Chapter 8]

**Kiara Corvus** – [**OC**] A woman on Daedalus. She joined Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus and acts as their mother figure. She is Pandora Corvus' mother. [Chapter 4]

**Pandora "Panny"/"Pan" Corvus** – [**OC**] A girl on Daedalus. She joined Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus with her mother. She is Kiara Corvus' daughter. [Chapter 4]

**Cozart Brothers** – Two inmate siblings in Butcher Bay Correctional Facility, known as the "Torture Twins." They would torture anyone thrown into their cell and are almost always in Solitary Confinement. [Chapter 15]

**Cyrus** – [**OC**] A fighter in The Pit (Helion Prime Circuit). Jack Badd defeated him. [Chapter 6]

**D**

**Dahlven** – A bounty hunter of Toombs second crew. He is a greedy, careless misogynist. He became a mercenary for the power and money the position offered. Richard Riddick kills him on Helion Prime. [Chapter 8]

**Mr. Deckard** – [**OC**] Lucian's Academy's instructor for Com Technologies, Advanced Com Technologies, and Calculus. [Chapter 14]

**Cassandra "Cassie" Demetrios** – [**OC**] One of Audrey Knight/Jack Badd's best friends. She is a clever girl who stays on Helion Prime and keeps in contact with Rachel Rileigh after she leaves the planet. She is Dawn's younger sister. [Chapter 1]

**Dawn Demetrios** – [**OC**] Cassandra's older sister. She owns Nagendra, a pet pythoplec. [Chapter 8]

**The Director** – [**OC**] He is Antony Greco's technical assistant, advisor, and aide. He holds Black Clearance in the Alliance. [Chapter 5]

**Douruba** – The Warden of Crematoria. He is extremely suspicious and slightly superstitious. [Chapter ???]

**E**

**John "Zeke" Ezekiel** – A passenger on the _Hunter-Gratzner_. Sharon Montgomery was his lover. He was killed by grues on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter ???]

**F**

**Doctor Ferguson** – [**OC**] A doctor recently recruited to work with Doctor Sorin cel Rau on a special experiment. [Chapter 22]

**Gavin D. Ferrel** – A Crematoria convict convicted of cryptoterrorism. No one could decipher his whereabouts or identity. He is the #1 hacker in the known systems. Traces of his crimes are spread throughout every known infosecurity network in the known systems. His trademark is a skull icon. These skulls were intentionally left behind. He was apprehended in the Helion Prime planetary network where a "weak link" was placed as bait. His signal was traced to a ship just beyond the Helion Nebula. He gave authorities no resistance. [Chapter 5]

**"Flirt"** – [**OC**] A girl in Jack Badd's physical education class. [Chapter 4]

**Adela Fortuna** – [**OC**] An ecologist working for Company's subsidiary, E-Co. She is the wife of Aodh Fortuna and is Lynne Fortuna's mother. [Chapter 21]

**Aodh Fortuna** – [**OC**] An ecologist working for Company's subsidiary, E-Co. He is the husband of Adela Fortuna and is Lynne Fortuna's father. [Chapter 21]

**Lynne Tyche Fortuna** – [**OC**] A girl Rachel Rileigh comes with to the Lucian's Academy school dance. She gets "gut feelings" about things that usually are correct. She lives at her parent's home. [Chapter 7]

**Junner Front** – Antonia Chillingsworth's right-hand man. He had a rifle with a machete fitted into it. Richard Riddick killed him. [Chapter 1]

**Carolyn Fry** – Docking Pilot for the _Hunter-Gratzner_. She was killed by the grues on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 2]

**Furya** – A man who led a large clan of Furyans. He was named after his home-world, Planet Furya. He keeps in contact with various Furyans through the Dream Time while in cryo aboard the Kubla Khan. He was the husband of Shira. [Chapter 8]

**G**

**Galahad** – [**OC**] A hacker belonging to the triad, Knights of NI. His partners are Arthur and Lancelot. [Chapter 21]

**Antony**** "Tony" Greco** – [**OC**] The Lieutenant General of Sentry Sector. He oversees Sentry's activities. He holds Silver Clearance in the Alliance. [Chapter 5]

**H**

**Hasan** – One of Abu Al-Walid's charges on his journey to New Mecca. Hasan was killed by grues on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 6]

**HiddEnigma** – [**OC**] A hacker who belongs to a team of hackers called the Riddlers. [Chapter 11]

**Hoxie "The Hox"** – The officious Warden of Butcher Bay Correctional Facility. Richard Riddick disguises Hoxie in prisoner garb and goggles, which lead to Hoxie's guards shooting him under the mistaken identity of Richard Riddick. [Chapter 20]

**I**

**J**

**Jackal** – [**OC**] One of the Zolus commanders. The media dubbed him "The Jackal" years ago during his solo exploits as a thief and assassin. His Alliance mirror is Rafe Taylor. [Chapter 18]

**Jerrod** – [**OC**] One of the Zolus commanders. He is a large strongman of the commanders, but with brains to match his brawn. [Chapter 17]

**Jessie** – [**OC**] A girl in Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus. She is a hacker. Her brother is Mike. [Chapter 4]

**William "The Conqueror" J. Johns** – A mercenary transporting Richard Riddick on the _Hunter-Gratzner_. Richard Riddick sets him up to be killed by a monster on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 10]

**K**

**Amir Kassab** – [**OC**] One of the Zolus commanders. His girlfriend died giving birth to his daughter, Zaira Kassab. [Chapter 20]

**Zaira Kassab** – [**OC**] A young woman in charge of the Zolus weapons supply. She makes deals to sell and buy weapons. Her Alliance mirror is Diego Araya. She is the daughter of Amir Kassab. [Chapter 20]

**Audrey J. Knight** – Jack Badd's alias on Helion Prime. The system registered her as Abu Al-Walid's adopted daughter. She attends Lucian's Academy High School. [Chapter 1]

**Zoe Morrisa Krieger** – [**OC**] A working girl at _Madame Marian's Roses_. She is in love with Benjamin Coleman. [Chapter 18]

**Ken'ichi Kuromori** – [**OC**] A martial artist that fights in The Pit (Helion Prime Circuit). He is part of the Kuromori Clan of New Japan. He is a Fourth Dan practitioner of Kokuei Do. Jack Badd defeated him after an intense match. He is the son of Daichi Kuromori. [Chapter 6]

**Kyra** – Jack Badd's alias used in various situations. [Chapter 6]

**L**

**Lancelot** – [**OC**] A hacker belonging to the triad, Knights of NI. His partners are Arthur and Galahad. [Chapter 21]

**Lauren** – [**OC**] A working girl at _Madame Marian's Roses_. She is Marian's lover; they eloped to Daedalus Station years ago. [Chapter 16]

**Eve Logan** – A mercenary formerly of Toombs' second crew. Alexis Zimmerman enlisted her to locate Rachel Rileigh and Richard Riddick. [Chapter 4]

**M**

**John Malcolm** – [**OC**] A dock worker on Daedalus. [Chapter 17]

**Marian** – [**OC**] The owner of _Madame Marian's Roses_. She is Lauren's lover; they eloped to Daedalus Station years ago. [Chapter 16]

**Micah** – [**OC**] A man in Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus. He was in charge of the posse's security. He is Sebastian's little brother. [Chapter 12]

**Mick** – [**OC**] An unstable man in the ranks of the Zolus who owns several "pets." He doesn't like odd numbers. Richard Riddick killed him. [Chapter 17]

**Mike** – [**OC**] A boy in Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus. He is a hacker. His sister is Jessie. [Chapter 4]

**Minos** – [**OC**] The right head of the Hacker unit, Cerberus. It is one of the dual-run artificial intelligences. Minos is polite, and chose a formal, British-accented voice pattern. [Chapter 4]

**Torvald Mjollnir** – [**OC**] A Colonel in the Sentry Sector and secretly a hacker who uses the alias C4sper. He is one of the top operators in Sentry. He holds Black Clearance in the Alliance. [Chapter 5]

**Sharon**** "Shazza" Montgomery** – A passenger on the _Hunter-Gratzner_. John Ezekiel was her lover. She was killed by grues on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 6]

**N**

**Nagendra** – [**OC**] A pythoplec pet owned by Dawn Demetrios. [Chapter 8]

**Jade Nguyen** – [**OC**] A reporter for the Aquila Major News Network. [Chapter 22]

**O**

**Gunnar O'Connor** – [**OC**] A detective of the Helion Prime Guard. He is currently investigating Richard Riddick's presence on Helion and the disappearance of Rachel Rileigh. He cooperates with Alexis Zimmerman once she heads the investigation. He is rather easygoing, but also quick to anger. His partner is Hasad Ibn Rashid. [Chapter 11]

**Paris**** P. Ogilvie** – An antiques dealer bringing cargo from Earth to the Tangiers System. He was killed by the grues on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 10]

**Douglass D. Owens** – Navigator on the _Hunter-Gratzner_. He died in the crash of the ship on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 18]

**P**

**Pope Joe** – An inmate surgeon at Butcher Bay Correctional Facility. He stitches Richard Riddick's arm after a bullet grazes Richard Riddick during a run for the Pit. [Chapter ???]

**Purifier** – A man in the position of Senior Purifier, whose primary function is to advise the Lord Marshal. After a campaign, the purifier speaks of the faith of the Necromongers to the uninformed populace and attempts to gain willing converts. [Chapter ???]

**Q**

**R**

**Randal** – [**OC**] A mercenary subordinate who fought in the Wailing Wars. He and the other mercenaries under Richard Riddick's lead betrayed him. He took leadership of the Zolus after he murdered Zed. Richard Riddick infiltrates the Zolusland and kills him. [Chapter 12]

**Hasad Ibn Rashid** – [**OC**] A detective of the Helion Prime Guard. He is currently investigating Richard Riddick's presence on Helion and the disappearance of Rachel Rileigh. He cooperates with Alexis Zimmerman once she heads the investigation. He is quite formal, but more levelheaded than his partner, Gunnar O'Connor. [Chapter 11]

**Sorin cel Rau** – [**OC**] A doctor who is doing an experiment. He is the Director of Research at the Newtonian Institute. [Chapter 12]

**Shawn Reis** – A mercenary of Toombs' second crew. [Chapter 4]

**Rhadamanthus** – [**OC**] The left head of the Hacker unit, Cerberus. It is one of the dual-run artificial intelligences. Rhadamanthus is sometimes aggravating, and chose a raspy, roguish voice pattern. [Chapter 4]

**Rhiana** – [**OC**] The second oldest of Mick's "pets." [Chapter 18]

**Brian Richards** – Richard Riddick's alias as a mercenary in the E-TAC assist during the Wailing Wars. [Chapter 12]

**Deirdre Richter** – Jack Badd's true identity. Not much is known about her because Jack Badd blocked out most of who she had been, leaving only the vaguest history. [Chapter 2]

**Richard "Big Evil" B. Riddick** – An escaped convict; there's more to him than anyone suspects. He often does transporter work for easy money and to lay low. [Chapter 1]

**Mrs. Riker** – [**OC**] Lucian's Academy's instructor for History, Government, and Cultures II. [Chapter 13]

**Chelsey Rileigh** – [**OC**] Rachel Rileigh's alias when she sends secret messages to Cassandra and Kristen Rileigh. She is Rachel Rileigh's fictitious older sister. [Chapter 11]

**Deanna "Grandma Dee" Rileigh** – [**OC**] Rachel Rileigh's grandmother. [Chapter 4]

**Liam Rileigh** – [**OC**] Kristen Rileigh's husband and father of Rachel Rileigh. He died during an accident on the job, an explosion in a nano-technologies lab due to an electrical short. [Chapter 13]

**Kristen Rileigh** – [**OC**] Liam Rileigh's wife and mother of Rachel Rileigh. She keeps in contact with Rachel Rileigh by sending messages to her daughter's "Chelsey Rileigh" alias after Rachel Rileigh leaves the planet. [Chapter 13]

**Rachel "Mouse"/"Vixxie" Rileigh** – [**OC**] One of Audrey Knight/Jack Badd's friends. She is the daughter of Liam and Kristen Rileigh. She's a genius, a hacker, and a sharpshooter. She has taken a liking to Junner Front's rifle. She is definitively "mousy"... [Chapter 1]

**Jacquelyn Riley** – Jack Badd's alias on Nemaeus 4 during her therapy sessions with Dr. Tachygnic. [Chapter 21]

**Richard Riley** – Richard Riddick's alias on Nemaeus 4 during Jack Badd's therapy sessions with Dr. Tachygnic. [Chapter 21]

**Robbie** – [**OC**] The youngest member of Jack Badd's posse. He doesn't have a responsibility, yet. [Chapter 14]

**Rust** – The leader of the Aquila gang in Butcher Bay Correctional Facility. He was Abbot's "rooster." Richard Riddick killed him. [Chapter 13]

**S**

**Nicholas "Saint Nick" Saint August** – [**OC**] One of the Zolus commanders. He was a Special Operations Marine under Lieutenant General Alexis Zimmerman. [Chapter 15]

**Ms. Satou** – [**OC**] Lucian's Academy's headmistress. She is a member of the Helion Council. [Chapter 14]

**Sebastian** – [**OC**] A man in Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus. He is the leader of the posse. He is Micah's big brother. [Chapter 12]

**William Sherwood** – [**OC**] A Chief in the DEA. He is in charge of deals with the Zolus concerning Rush. His Zolus mirror is Jack Vorobyov. [Chapter 20]

**Shira** – A Furyan Shaman/Seer who died during the Furyan Massacre. She keeps in contact with various Furyans through the Dream Time. She was the wife of Furya. [Chapter ???]

**Katherine Soloviev** – [**OC**] Ova donor for Specimen 74 and one of the doctors working for Doctor Sorin cel Rau. [Chapter 20]

**Specimen 74** – [**OC**] A gene-spliced creature created by Doctor Sorin cel Rau. [Chapter 12]

**Sphinx** – [**OC**] A master hacker who started a team of hackers called the Riddlers. [Chapter 5]

**"Spunky"** – [**OC**] A girl in Jack Badd's physical education class. Councilman Alfarsi is her father. [Chapter 4]

**Squirt** – Sebastian's nickname for Jack Badd. [Chapter 14]

**Suleiman** – One of Abu Al-Walid's charges on his journey to New Mecca. Suleiman was killed by grues on M-344/G, 2. [Chapter 6]

**T**

**Vincent Tachygnic** – [**OC**] A therapist on Nemaeus 4. [Chapter 21]

**Rafe "Rampage" Taylor** – [**OC**] A Marine with the rank of Lieutenant General. He is current commanding officer of Spec Ops for the Alliance after Alexis Zimmerman "retired." He also assigns hits to Zolus hitmen. He is Jackal's Alliance mirror. [Chapter 20]

**Theresa** – [**OC**] A woman who owns Theresa's Threads and helps Jack Badd in finding a dress for the school dance at Lucian's Academy. She has a laid-back attitude. [Chapter 7]

**Toombs** – A mercenary upon the Kubla Khan that now hunts Richard Riddick. [Chapter 4]

**Tyler** – [**OC**] A boy in Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus. He is the chef, when they have food. He watches out for Veronica and Robbie. [Chapter 14]

**Tyler** – Richard Riddick's alias when sponsoring Jack Badd in The Pit (Helion Prime Circuit). [Chapter 6]

**U**

**Urchin** – [**OC**] A young boy on Nemaeus 4 that Richard Riddick pays to keep an eye out for Toombs. [Chapter 23]

**V**

**Lord Vaako** – One of the Necromonger commanders. He is said to be one of the most capable commanders in the Necromonger army. He is the husband of Dame Vaako. [Chapter ???]

**Dame Vaako** – Vaako's wife and a schemer. She wants to put Vaako on the Necromonger throne succeeding Zhylaw. [Chapter ???]

**Vaughn** – [**OC**] A fighter in The Pit (Helion Prime Circuit). Jack Badd defeated him. [Chapter 6]

**Jack Vorobyov** – [**OC**] A man in charge of the Zolus drug supply. He is selling off Rush to the Alliance. His Alliance mirror is Chief William Sherwood. [Chapter 20]

**Veronica** – [**OC**] A girl in Jack Badd's posse on Daedalus. She is a pickpocket. [Chapter 14]

**W**

**Kaneonuskatew "Kane" Wesakechak** – [**OC**] A technician from Zilos Corporation who helps install a new cockpit on the _Gift of Nyx_. [Chapter 24]

**X**

**Y**

**Z**

**Zed** – [**OC**] The former and deceased leader of the Zolus. Randal killed him. [Chapter 15]

**Lord Marshal Zhylaw** – The sixth Lord Marshal of the Necromongers. He led the Furyan Massacre. An old prophecy foretells his downfall to a Furyan. [Chapter ???]

**Alexis "Zimmy" Zimmerman** – [**OC**] An Ex-Marine with the rank of Lieutenant General. Alexis is "retired," and acts as the Physical Education teacher for the girls of Lucian's Academy's High School. [Chapter 3]

**Lance Zimmerman** – [**OC**] Alexis Zimmerman's deceased husband. He died of a heart attack. [Chapter 14]

**

* * *

**

Places

* * *

**A**

** "Ant Farm"** – An area on Nemaeus 4, formally the Western Desert. The Ant Farm is home to the largest concentration of formicid and Nemaean anteaters on the planet. It is considered dangerous to traverse these areas not only for the harsh winds throughout the planet, but because of the local wild life. Only scientists and ecologists hold an interest in this area; it is considered too dangerous to bother with by most others.

**Aquarius 3** – A lush planet full of grassy plains, thriving forests, massive rain forests, jungles, and broad oceans. The planet is a veritable utopia and under protection by the EPA and E-Co; aside from monitoring outposts, the planet is untouched. Environmentally safe tours are available.

**Aquila**** Major** – A thriving business world that is the "entrepreneur's New Mecca." Richard Riddick was here, briefly, while running from Johns.

**Aquilan Banking Trust** – One of the largest banks that offers intersystem banking. The Knights of NI robbed it and framed Cerberus.

**B**

**BGP-4** – A Planet in the BGP System. Also known as the "Howling Planet," this large, grey planet has grey clouds... Everything is grey. It is a mass of jagged, hollow, spire-filled plains and mountains. The planet surface is dead and the only life is found in the deepest subterranean caverns. The planet is full of winding, interconnected tunnels. Wind rushing through the tunnels and over the holes in the hollow spires made a constant wailing sound. The Wailing Wars are named after the sound.

**Butcher Bay Correctional Facility** – A Triple-Max slam in the Thelriss System. Richard Riddick attained his eye-shine here. It was previously thought inescapable until Richard Riddick spent a short time there. Butcher Bay has a new warden and repairs made from the damages incurred to it during Richard Riddick's escape have just finished...

**C**

**Central City** – A city on Nemaeus 4 and the site of most business offices for the various corporations that all but rule the planet. The crime rate is lower here, as much of the housing here is expensive and well-patrolled by the policing units. High-ranking, retired Zolus sometimes live here with CEOs and government officials. Central City is the hub of power for Nemaeus 4, containing the most powerful men and women on the planet, which is not always the government officials.

**Coalsack System** – A system in a dark nebula which houses an extensive number of settlements following expeditions to the Coalsack Nebula.

**Conga System** – A system with life on four of its seven planets. The main colony world is filled with deciduous trees and rivers across most of its continents. The other planets sport more desert and tundra climates. William Johns picked up Richard Riddick here shortly before boarding the _Hunter-Gratzner_.

**Crematoria** – A planet in the Igneon System that is the location of a subterranean Triple-Max slam. The surface of the planet is heated by the nearby sun, causing a fiery temperature differential.

**D**

**Daedalus Station** – A station that orbits Nemaeus 4. Its layout is a series of ring-like decks connected to a central spire by walkways every quarter-circle. Every ring is also connected by maintenance shafts and air ducts. The decks are divided by 24 corridors instead of blocks. This station is notorious for trapping people with its extortionate prices and slumlord ruled nature. There are rumors that this may change, but not many believe it.

**Daedalus Station, Deck 3, Corridor X** – The Zolus Headquarters. Deck 3 is considered Zolusland, but Corridor X is considered its heart. The Zolus commanders gather here for meetings.

**Dengali **– A city on Helion Prime that exports its various aquatic wares to the rest of the planet. There are fishing towns on the shores of the Dengali Sea and Dengali River. There is also a tourist and vacation resort on the Dengali sea shore. Along with the Solaris Crystal Caverns and New Mecca, Dengali is one of the three major tourist attractions of Helion Prime.

**Dengali River** – A salt water river into which the Dengali Sea empties. Dengali was founded a few miles from its tributary. It is the main site of river-trapping in Dengali. There are fewer fish but in larger concentration, almost no Helion mantas, and a higher concentration of pythoplecs. Concentration of crocodilian habitation in the river is dependent upon their mating and egg-laying seasons.

**Dengali Sea** – A large body of salt water on Helion Prime that borders the desert land mass where New Mecca is located. It consists mainly of assorted fish and crocodilians, with a healthy number of Helion mantas and low concentrations of pythoplecs. It is a main site of sea-fishing in Dengali.

**E**

**Epson 4** – A planet in the Epson System with a series of caves that have valuable, refinable sources used to produce ion drive fuel. The caves are covered in a highly necrotic fungus that devours living tissue. Miners wear thick biosuits to protect themselves from contact with the fungus.

**F**

**Fisher-2** – A penal colony planet in the Fisher System. It is its own holding cell, court, and prison system. It only contains minimum- to high-security inmates. Maximum-security inmates are typically shipped to Butcher Bay Correctional Facility.

**Fisher-6** – A highly industrialized planet in the Fisher System. The planet surface is said to look like an old-worlds motherboard, with lots of buildings and wires with concrete and pavement between them. Fisher-6 is home to many mechanical and technological experts. Illegal activities are as common as legal activities and it is a known haven for criminals with techno-mechanical specialties.

**Planet Furya** – The home planet of Furyans, which was mostly razed by Necromongers led by Zhylaw before he became Lord Marshal during the Furyan Massacre, leaving very few Furyans left in the galaxy.

**G**

**Gemini 6** – A planet in the Gemini System that is home to New Hong Kong.

**_Gift of Nyx_** – Richard Riddick's ship, legally registered to Rick Phoebus. It is a luxury ship that was gutted and fit with what Richard Riddick deemed necessary for training, exercise, and shipping cargo.

**H**

**Helion 3** – A planet in the Helion System that is home to the luxury planet holding New France, New Italy, and New Spain. Designers, artists, musicians, entrepreneurs, and the idle rich often inhabit this planet.

**Helion 5** – The last planet in the Helion System. It is home to New Poland.

**Helion Prime** – A planet in the Helion System full of seas, rivers, and deserts. It is home to New Mecca. Imam Al-Walid and his charges, Ali, Hasan, and Suleiman, were headed here on the _Hunter-Gratzner_. The planet shares its light with other planets for power. It is home to the Solaris Crystal Caverns. Its inhabitants are a melting pot of ways of life, religion, and ethnicity. It is governed by the Helion Council.

**Highland City** – A city on Nemaeus 4 set atop the Northern Plateau. It is the main mining town of Nemaeus 4 and provides a large amount of revenue for the planet. Travel to this city is dangerous because of the deadly crosswinds and drafts by The Cliffs. It is dangerous to fly there even with an experienced guide. By land, it takes several days to reach the pass. Highlanders are isolated and have formed a distrust of the "suits" from Central City.

**_Hunter-Gratzner_** – A ship scheduled to arrive in the Taurus System, Helion System, and Tangiers System. It crashed on the second planet of the M-344/G System after flying through the tail of a comet. In events following the crash, Richard Riddick, whom William Johns was taking to Tangiers Penal Colony, escaped custody and is now at large.

**I**

**J**

**K**

**Kubla Khan** – A merc ship formerly under the command of Antonia Chillingsworth. The ship has a gallery full of advanced cryo-stasis pads housing living statues of captured most-wanted convicts. Furya, the Killer of Men, was among these statues.

**L**

**Le Rayon de Soleil** – A diner in New Mecca near Lucian's Academy. It has an average menu of assorted meals, but its claim to fame is its expansive list of beverages, ranging from alcoholic and mixed drinks to teas, coffees, and fruit or vegetable juices and blends. All items are reasonably priced.

**Libra 9** – A planet where Jack Badd followed Richard Riddick to a brothel.

**Lucian's Academy** – A prestigious K-12 private school in New Mecca that offers many programs. They also have an internship and scholarship deals with many colleges.

**Lupus 5** – A planet in the Lupus System home to an (in)famous group of mercenaries, the Lupus Guild.

**M**

**M-344/G, 2** – A planet in the M-344/G, 2 System that is almost constantly in daylight due to three suns. There is an eclipse of all three suns every 22 years. The planet has an extensive series of tunnel just under the surface where grues hide until the eclipse.

**Madame Marian's Roses** – A brothel on Deck 2 of Daedalus Station headed by Marian. It is made to look like a brothel from the Elizabethan era.

**N**

**Nano-Med, Inc. Distribution Centers** – Any of the various sites that produce and ship Nano-Med, Inc. products.

**Nemaeus 4** – An industrialized planet in the Nemaeus System ruled by a government under the heel of the big business owners. Most of the planet is rock and sand and there are dangerous, strong winds. The oceans are filled with dangerous creatures, but the caves have proven to be invaluable to the economy of Nemaeus 4. Jack Badd grew up in North City and ran away to Daedalus Station, which orbits the planet.

**Nemaeus System** – A system housing the economically ruled planet Nemaeus 4 and the slum-station, Daedalus.

**New France** – One of three major cities on Helion 3. Between itself, New Italy, and New Spain, all of the newest and latest trends in fashion and art tend to come from Helion 3.

**New Hong Kong** – A large settlement on Gemini 6. Qin Fashion is based here.

**New Italy** – One of three major cities on Helion 3. Between itself, New France, and New Spain, all of the newest and latest trends in fashion and art tend to come from Helion 3.

**New Mecca** – The major city of Helion Prime, it was the primary colony and also has the largest concentration of peoples. It has the greatest diversity of all the settlements and towns. It has many economic and political power in the Helion System. Most of the Helion Council lives in New Mecca.

**New Spain** – One of three major cities on Helion 3. Between itself, New France, and New Italy, all of the newest and latest trends in fashion and art tend to come from Helion 3.

**Newtonian Institute** – An research organization in the Ursa Luna System that is responsible for leading discoveries in the major fields of science. They provided data to the Alliance Shipping Reconnaissance group during the investigation into the crash of the _Hunter-Gratzner_. Their last known project was to recreate viable grue embryos from DNA recovered from the crash investigation team. Tours are provided by various scientists around the public levels. There are lower levels where research non-public research occurs. Below the lower levels are secret levels with questionable research.

**North City** – A city on Nemaeus 4 and the main industrial power on the planet. It is the site of the major space port for Nemaeus 4. There is also a thriving fishing industry from the North Sea. North City has a higher than average crime rate and the majority of the population is middle- and low-income. The poverty level is very high in some sections of the city and the homeless can be found almost everywhere throughout it. The Zolus often do their planet-side business in North City. Jack Badd was born here.

**North Sea** – One of the largest bodies of water on Nemaeus 4 and the farthest one to the north. This sea, like all other bodies of water on Nemaeus 4, is filled with carnivorous and cannibalistic creatures such as Nemaean eels, piranhas, and sea crabs. Its waters are the murkiest on the planet, which make it one of the more dangerous seas.

**Northern Plateau** – An raised area on Nemaeus 4 marked by a long, sheer ridge that is informally called "The Cliffs." The winds bounce off the high, stone wall of the ridge and create strong crosswinds and drafts. There is a pass to the south that is safer to traverse, but it can take several days by land to get from either Central City or North City by the pass.

**O**

**P**

**PG-151** – A planet with a newly established settlement. Jackal took a contract and assassinated a government official before the Alliance could covertly take the target out. This nearly threw the settlement into a colony war, but the Alliance was able to keep things peaceful.

**The Pit** – An intersystem, underground fighting ring. Kyra and Tyler make some quick money by fighting in the Circuits. Kyra and Tyler initially fought in the Helion Prime Circuit. One of the largest Pit Circuits is in New Japan.

**Q**

**R**

**S**

**Sentry Sector** – A sector of the Department of Defense that houses top of the line hardware and software used to fight cybercrimes. The most top-secret software and com systems are developed here, including programs such as Sentinel.

**Sigma 3** – A planet in the Sigma System where its inhabitants are more or less slaves and the local military is the authority. The entire planet is a festering cesspool of illegal activities.

**Sigma Strikeforce Academy** – A military academy on Sigma 3's moon, where Richard Riddick learned all there was to know about killing.

**Solaris Crystal Caverns** – A series of caves on Helion Prime with the largest concentration of heliotite. The caverns are a attraction for locals and tourists. It was voted as most romantic site in the Helion System.

**Southern Gate** – A large pass by the Southern Plateau of Nemaeus 4. It is the only safe way to access the southern plateau that is close to either Central City or North City. The southern plateau contains the Nemaeus 4 Penitentiary, placing convicts far away from any means of escape by foot. Supplies and new prisoners are always brought by hover-transport through the Southern Gate.

**Sparta System** – A system with a series of 12 planets, all but two of which are harsh in climate. Those nearest the sun are heated desert planets while those farthest are frozen wastes. Spartus 6 and 7 are the only temperate planets in the system. Spartus 7 was colonized first.

**Spartus 7** – An average planet in the Sparta System. The planet has a successful economy and a healthy government. It is the site of Spartus University and Spartan Industries.

**Spartus Industries** – A business on Spartus 7. They focus on the manufacturing of advanced com systems, production of reliable operating systems, and coding of programs and software engines.

**Spartus University** – A university on Spartus 7. It is distinguished for its prominent Medical, Business, Com Technology, and Architecture curriculums. Many of the most prominent businesses are headed by people that graduated from Spartus U.

**_Spirit of Langavat_** – The alias of Richard Riddick's ship, _Gift of Nyx_.

**T**

**Tangiers Penal Colony** – A slam where Richard Riddick was an inmate at one point in time. William Johns was headed here with Richard Riddick on the _Hunter-Gratzner_ before it crashed.

**Taurus 3** – A planet in the Taurus System. Jack Badd was headed here on the _Hunter-Gratzner_ before it crashed.

**Theresa's Threads** – A tailor shop on New Mecca where Jack Badd bought two dresses.

**U**

**U.V. 6** – A planet in the Frigido System composed of rock and ice. The planet has large planes of ice rings caused by glacial drifts or icefalls that appear as fingerprint-like shapes on the planet. These ice rings typically found around mountains. For five years, Richard Riddick used this place as a hideout. It is also the home of the Urzo Giganticus.

**V**

**W**

**Western Sea** – The third largest sea on Nemaeus 4. The waters are clearer than the North Sea, but they are no less dangerous. For ecological and human safety hazards, considerations for building a settlement by the Western Sea were abandoned when it became apparent that it was the watering hole of the Nemaean anteaters and formicids.

**X**

**Y**

**Z**

**

* * *

**

Things

* * *

**A**

**Alliance** – The body of intersystem governments participating in a peaceful alliance, forming a network across the known systems. It uses a house of representatives to pass laws. It contains a military; executive, legislative, and judicial branches; and dictates standards of life for its citizens, including economy, health care, security, and education.

**Alliance**** Clearance Level** – The various levels of access to classified information within the Alliance government. They rank from lowest to highest as follows: Green, Yellow, Orange, Red, Purple, and Black. There are two special operations ranks above Black: Silver and Gold.

**Alliance Congressional Senate** – The legislative branch of the Alliance, formed of various representatives. The representatives are elected through a voting system by planet and by system. The Senate balances power so that no single system or senator controls the Alliance.

**Alliance Executive Offices** – The executive branch of the Alliance, formed of various leaders of planetary/systemic governments. These leaders govern their worlds or systems and are typically elected to their positions by the people of that planet or system. All executive leaders are of equal footing in the Alliance, but cannot issue orders to another system or planet outside their jurisdiction.

**Alliance Judicial System** – The judicial branch of the Alliance, formed of many judges and courts.

**Alliance Shipping** – The Alliance-run, intersystem company that chartered the _Hunter-Gratzner_. It was responsible for sending the Alliance Shipping Reconnaissance investigators to M-344/G, 2 to research the ship's crash.

**Alliance Shipping Reconnaissance** – A sub-group of Alliance Shipping that investigates disappearances, crashes, and other internal affairs of Alliance Shipping.

**Aquila Major News Network** – The primary reporting network for the Aquilan System and Aquila Major.

**Arachnoids** – These large, ten-legged arachnid-like creatures are native to Nemaeus 4. They resemble a cross between daddy-long-legs and tarantulas. Their diet consists of the fungus the grows on the cave surfaces, which they sweep up with chelicerae. They are harmless. The webs they spin are vestigial and only serve as transportation and nests. Their bodies are about the size of a human head, with six-foot legs. Some Nemaeans have begun keeping them as pets.

**ATC** – An automated teller com. It is a com limited to banking activity. One can get statements and make deposits or withdrawals from them.

**B**

**The Box** – A shiv that Jack Badd made for Pandora Corvus. It has the appearance of a skull with fangs on its hilt; the blade looks like the tongue of the skull. The pommel rotates out from the handle to reveal the hollow handle, which has a set of lock picks inside it.

**C**

**Cerberus** – A triad of hackers: Aeacus, Minos, and Rhadamanthus. Known as "Ternion Sentinel at the Gates of Hades." Cerberus is the #3 hacker in the known systems, below Gavin D. Ferrel and Sphinx... but is moving up in the world.

**Cinch** – A supplemental product that eases women's menstruation. Should be taken with vitamin supplements and a meal.

**Coca-Cola Company** – A beverage company that has been around for ages. It has a famous line of drinks. Its competitor is PepsiCo, another long-standing beverage company.

**Com** – A computer. They can vary in size, design, and build.

**Com-Pad** – A hand-held computer screen smaller than a com, but larger than a data pad. They can uplink to other com devices via cable or virtually synchronize with them. They can vary in design and build, but are typically between the sizes of 6"x8" to 9"x12".

**Company** – A corporation spanning Alliance systems that dabbles in nearly all forms of business and commerce. Rumor has it that there are several branches with shady business deals; further rumors state there are "secret" branches that deal only with criminal or government agencies.

**"Croc'ed"** – A term used by Dengali fishermen describing a poor haul due to crocodilians. The crocodilians have adapted to the fishing business, stalking fishing boats when the fishermen cast out bait and chum in hopes of catching an easy meal. If the crocodilian hovers too close, it will scare away most of the fish and devour any that come close, leaving the fishermen with a small catch.

**Crocodilians** – A reptilian predator species of Helion Prime closely resembling a crocodile. Crocodilians can grow to 30 feet long. Their usual diets consist of fish in the Dengali Sea and Dengali River, but will eat pythoplecs if the opportunity provides. They have also been known to scavenge Helion manta carcasses. Seasonally, they will migrate up the Dengali River to mate, and then again to lay eggs. During this time, they can be found sunning on the river banks instead of the shores. Crocodilian hunting habits have adapted to intelligently herd fish to Dengali fishermen boats, using the fishermen's bait and chum to catch an easy meal.

**D**

**Data-Pad** – A smaller, hand-held com for quick data storage, input, and retrieval. They can uplink to other com devices via cable or virtually synchronize with them. They can vary in design and build, but are typically between the sizes of 2"x3" to 5"x7".

**DiamonDrill** – A company that makes diamond drill bits and other power-drill accessories.

**Discussion Channels Index** – A database of all Open Discussion Channels and "listed" Private Discussion Channels. All channels are sorted according to the following: Category, Subject, Title, Description, and Type. The index can be searched and sorted to find a specific channel using key words and optional attributes such as: Date Created, Text-Only, Video-Only, Audio-Only, and more.

**Dream Time** – A mental/astral plane accessible to Furyans capable of projecting themselves into it. They may also invite another mind into the Dream Time provided that mind is unconscious.

**E**

**E-Co** – An ecology organization created and funded by Company. They often work with the EPA.

**Big Evil** – A shiv that Jack Badd made. It has a long, broad blade that is hooked at the tip and serrated on its back edge. This blade is symbolic of Richard Riddick.

**Lesser Evil** – A shiv that Jack Badd made. It has an average length and width, but has a flame-blade style of hilt-facing points on each swell. There are two swells per edge. This blade is symbolic of Jack Badd.

**F**

**Flitter** – A small, two- or three-person hover-ship made for limited travel. Usually deployed from a larger vehicle. Many news networks use them for aerial shots. They are environmentally safe and near silent. They are slow moving, with a maximum speed of 20 kph (14 mph).

**Formicids** – Ant-like creatures with eight legs native to Nemaeus 4. A formicid drone and workers are usually an inch and a half from mandible to sting. The drones and workers build a nest for the queen formicids, which can be up to four inches in length and have four wings. Typical formicid hills are between two and four feet high, but can reach heights of six feet; the hives also extend underground for several yards. They are the Nemaean Anteater's food source.

**Furyan Massacre** – A battle between the Furyans and the Necromongers on Planet Furya. The sheer number of Necromongers overwhelmed the Furyans. Led by Zhylaw before he became the Lord Marshal, every man, woman, and child found was to be murdered. The resulting near-genocide left only a few hundred Furyans in existence.

**G**

**"Girl Mood"** – A confusing emotional state of females that Richard Riddick does not understand. It occurs when he does or says something and receives an unexpected reaction seemingly disproportionate to the severity of said action or words.

**Grue Tooth** – A tooth from a grue that bit Richard Riddick's leg. It was removed and Jack Badd currently wears it on a necklace. She uses it as a source of comfort.

**Grues** – A species of feral, subterranean creatures native to M-344/G, 2 formally known as bioraptors. They have prehensile hands on long arms that house bony spikes that can extend from the wrist, just below the palm. In addition, they have a long, prehensile tail and large wings. Their heads are crescent-shaped with two stalks on either side used to capture sound for echolocation. Their sense of smell is very acute. Grues are cannibalistic and photosensitive to the point where they will break out into boils—and sometimes flames—in light. They come out from their subterranean lairs when the planet is eclipsed.

**Heavy Guard Unit** – Medium-tonnage exo-skeleton units housing pilots. These units are capable of dealing with individuals as well as small- and medium-size hostile groups. They have weak armor plating on their backs where the pilot enters.

**Riot Guard Units** – Heavy-tonnage exo-skeleton units housing pilots. These units are capable of dealing with large-size hostile groups, medium-tonnage exo-skeleton and mechanized units, and other large-tonnage exo-skeleton units. They have heavy armor and are not easily destroyed.

**H**

**Helion Council** – A group of representatives that make up the governing body of Helion Prime. Councilmembers are generally well-placed and wise to the needs of society.

**Helion Guard** – The combination police and military force on Helion Prime. In harsh times, they have barracks where the guards stay "on call."

**Helion Mantas** – A filter feeder species of Helion closely resembling the stingrays. They can grow to be 80 feet from wingtip to wingtip, with a 45- to 50-foot body from anterior to posterior, and a 20-foot, narrow tail with a barbed stinger at the end. They glide through the water and pick up plankton. They will turn vertically and let the current blow plankton into their wings, which have slits to allow water to pass. Another tactic Helion mantas will use is jumping out of the water and "belly-flopping" onto the surface to capture plankton on the water surface in bulk. They are generally harmless and have long life-spans and a single mating period in their lives.

**Heliotite** – Also known as "sun-wind crystal," these crystallized mineral formations are clear and prismatic. They form in veins in and around caves on Helion Prime. Light passes through heliotite slowly and the crystals emit the light that "charged" them in an ambient rainbow of color between two and sixteen hours. The people of Helion Prime have refined this crystal and began synthetically producing it, using the material for their light-gathering towers to share light with other planets in the Helion System.

**I**

**Ident** – A person's registered identification, including several headings of pertinent, public information about the individual. Everyone is registered an Ident at birth and information is added onto it through their life. Certain information can be marked private or legally sealed from the public.

**J**

**K**

**Kicktoss** – A game comprised of influences from football and soccer. It is played with an offensive and a defensive team. All players are free to move about the field, and may use the hands, feet, or the head, to move the ball down the field. However, the offensive team may not travel the ball backward, but may pass laterally by toss (but not hand-off). The ball may only be intercepted or blocked while on the ground or in the air, but not stolen while in the hands of another player. The offense must move the ball toward the defense's goal—a soccer-like net. A single player from each team tends the goal; they may not move from a specified radius of ten meters from the goal (marked by a circle around the goal). Whoever has possession of the ball is the offensive team. Possession changes when a ball goes out of bounds by the team that had last contact. Possession also changes when a team scores goal, in which case the defense becomes the offense. The game plays to 15 points (professionally) or 5 points (short game).

**Knights of NI** – A triad of hackers: Arthur, Galahad, Lancelot. They robbed the Aquilan Banking Trust while posing as Cerberus.

**L**

**The List** – A compiled list of all known hackers in the most-wanted category. The three requirements of being on The List are that the hacker has a well-established record of cyber-crimes, be uncaught in all crimes, and have a reward for capture.

**Lupus Guild** – A guild of mercenaries based on Lupus 5. The mercenaries in this guild are some of the most greedy, ruthless and—sometimes—unstable.

**M**

**Mercenary Jacks Or Better** – A guild of mercenaries that no longer exists. MercJOB signed up all its mercenaries and then drafted more to complete a 500-man contract for an E-TAC assist for the Marines on BGP-4 during the Wailing Wars. Riddick killed all the mercenaries belonging to this guild and put it out of business.

**N**

**Nano-Med, Inc.** – A corporation responsible for the creation and distribution of Nano-Med products. Richard Riddick has a shipping deal with them under the alias of Murdoch Connal.

**Navigear, Inc.** – A corporation responsible for the best and latest in environmental, hazardous materials, pressure, and space suits. Richard Riddick has a shipping deal with them under the alias of Murdoch Connal.

**Nemaean Anteaters** – This species native to Nemaeus 4 closely resembles anteaters, but tower at eight feet and are covered in thick, wooly fur. Their paws have long claws for digging into formicid hives. Their trunks are long and their tongues are covered in sticky saliva. They are easy to spook and may trample smaller creatures.

**Nemaean Chiropterans** – This species native to Nemaeus 4 very closely resembles the fox-bat, but is about the size of the common brown bat. They use echolocation to hunt and their calls sound like the buzz of cicadas. These creatures will perch on any available still surface inside the caves.

**Nemaean Eels** – This species native to Nemaeus 4 resembles eels. However, they have long, snake-like bodies comparable to an anaconda and a powerful set of jaws lined with razor teeth. Their main prey consists of the hard-shelled sea crabs and piranhas when the opportunity presents itself. Nemaean eels that survive to adulthood can grow to be 45 to 50 feet long. They are quick and vicious, even to their own kind. Copulation is done carefully by the males, as the females may kill and devour the male in rejection. Their main diet consists of young, Nemaean piranhas.

**Nemaean Piranhas** – This species native to Nemaeus 4 somewhat resembles a basking shark, but with six rows of teeth. At first glance, these creatures are seemingly innocuous. However, they can enter a feeding frenzy with their school at any moment. A school of piranha are usually between 30 and 50, typically with twice as many males as females. They can grow to be 25 feet long and swim through the waters, looking for anything smaller than them that they can fit in their jaws, which can expand up to four feet. Anything that enters their mouth is summarily chewed and torn to pieces. Their diet consists of other schools of smaller Nemaean Piranha and Nemaean eels who have not reached adulthood. Two battling piranha will gape their maws at each other in challenge.

**Networks** – A series of networks joining coms together; an internet.

**New Oslo Shipping Corp** – The company that owned and operated the _Hunter-Gratzner_.

**O**

**Open Discussion Channel** – Abbreviated ODC, these are public chat rooms where people can converse on coms over the Networks. ODCs are accessible to anyone. All open channels appear on the Discussion Channels Index. Some ODCs are regulated by a moderator or moderators. Both commercial and noncommercial ODCs may have rules set by the moderator(s) of that channel that one must agree upon before participating.

**P**

**PepsiCo** – A beverage and snack company that has been around for ages. It has a famous line of drinks. Its competitor is Coca-Cola, another long-standing beverage company.

**Petameter** – Also known as "petas." This is the standard unit of measurement for interstellar travel. 1 petameter is equal to 1,000,000,000,000,000 (1 quadrillion) meters.

**Private Discussion Channel** – Abbreviated PDC, these are private chat rooms where people can converse on coms over the Networks. PDCs are only accessible via invite or if one knows the name of the channel. If these channels appear on the Discussion Channels Index, they will have passwords locking them from public use; these are known as "listed" Private Discussion Channels. Some PDCs are unlisted on the Discussion Channels Index. PDCs may have moderators the same as ODCs.

**Pythoplec** – A snake-like species native to Helion Prime, between one and three feet in length, and no thicker than four inches around. They are generally brown to black in color, sometimes with black spots on the lighter color. They have two, small, red eyes set to the sides atop their heads, which see in the infrared range. They require almost constant warmth and light to survive. They use suction mounts and rough tongues to eat algae off heliotite and stay close to clean, "charged" heliotite. Some people of Helion keep them as pets.

**Q**

**Qin Fashion** – A designer clothing company that is foremost in fashion from the Gemini System. It ships some of its hottest items to the Helion System.

**R**

**Riddlers** – A group formed by Sphinx of the most elite hackers on the Networks. The group consisted of Sphinx, C4sper, and HiddEnigma. Sphinx invited Cerberus, but Aeacus turned him down. Later, C4sper left the Riddlers.

**Rush** – A drug formerly manufactured by the Zolus under the command of Randal. "Rush" is an illegal performance enhancement drug that briefly enhances synapse fire rate. It is a derivative of an amphetamine formula. There are some very severe side effects. Its usage is heavily discouraged.

**S**

**Sentinel** – A learning AI developed for the sole purpose of using its networking and database abilities to find and use information. The information Sentinel reaped could be utilized in a number of ways by a director or operator. It was left inactive when its programmer died before finishing it.

**Big Sister Blade** – A shiv that Jack Badd made. It has an average length, slightly longer than the Little Sister Blade and a smoothly curving blade and a handle tailored to fit her palm. The guard of the shiv can rotate ninety degrees to the side, which opens a hole in the pommel where a spike in the handle drops through. Returning the guard back to its previous position locks the spike in place.

**Little Sister Blade** – A shiv that Jack Badd made. It has an average length, slightly shorter than the Big Sister Blade and a smoothly curving blade and a handle tailored to fit her palm. The guard of the shiv can rotate ninety degrees to the side, which opens a hole in the pommel where a spike in the handle drops through. Returning the guard back to its previous position locks the spike in place.

**Sons of Freedom** – A anarchist group of terrorists that considers the Alliance full of tyrannical overlords, conspiracies, cover-ups, and oppression. They have made several attacks upon Alliance organizations and individuals. After several major strikes, the Alliance retaliated; this started the Wailing Wars. The Sons of Freedom took a severe blow from the war and are nearly crippled, but they were not eradicated.

**T**

**TardisCo** – The leading brand-name in power cells for medium and small appliances.

**Tauran Landshark** – A sand-burrowing creature resembling a shark on Taurus 3. They are essentially blind and hunt by sensing vibration. Tauran Landsharks are typically tan with a darker brown underbelly. Their adult size ranges between 16 and 20 feet. Their diet consists of anything buzzard-sized or larger that has meat on it.

**Trashy Romance Novels** – Also known as "bodice ripper" fiction, a few of these stories might have plot... but that's not why most people, generally women, read them. They come in a variety of settings and cater to a broad range of lifestyles. Rachel has a small but growing collection of them.

**U**

**Universal Denominations** – The accepted currency of the Alliance. The exchange rates differ between other currencies, but UDs are accepted everywhere in the Alliance. There is no guarantee of their validity or fair exchange outside Alliance territory.

**Urzo Giganticus** – A species of large, powerful predators on U.V. 6. Reminiscent of a yeti, they stand around eight feet in adulthood and are covered in a long, thick, white coat of fur. They have very long and sharp teeth and claws. The Urzo giganticus sees in infrared. These dangerous carnivores will hunt and attack almost anything.

**V**

**V-Arms Training System** – A virtual training program for firearms, produced by Company. It has a vast array of training options including a scenario function.

**Vanguard** – A com's primary firewall. It monitors most of the commonly used ports and access points on a computer. There are two ways to bypass a vanguard. Usually, backdoor ports and lesser-known commands are exploited to gain access to the computer. A more slippery method is to trick the vanguard into granting legit access to the com. It is never wise to rely on the vanguard alone to protect a com from viruses and hackers.

**Vec-Corp** – One of the major corporations responsible for production and distribution of vectran throughout the systems. Richard Riddick has a shipping deal with them under the alias of Murdoch Connal.

**V-ID** – Virtual-Identity. A com-registered identity; a virtual address for that specific com. A com with more than one user may have more than V-ID. V-IDs are used to log in to a com and are the finger-print of the Networks. There are ways to prevent leaving a trace to one's V-ID, wipe a V-ID's trail, and prevent a V-ID from being discovered.

**W**

**Wailing Wars** – A war between the Alliance and the Sons of Freedom. The Sons of Freedom had based their operations from BGP-4. When the Alliance found them and attacked, its tunnel-ridden underground served as the lair of the Sons of Freedom. The planet turned into a killing field for both the Alliance and the Sons of Freedom. The war has had a traumatic effect on many of its participants.

**X**

**Y**

**Z**

**Zilos Corporation** – A company that manufactures security and battle product technology, including robot guard units.

**Zolus** – A gang originating on Daedalus Station that slowly expanded into various systems. They are a major underworld force. Once led by Zed and then Randal, the Zolus are now in the hands of its commanders. Nicholas Saint August has a plan to take the Zolus in a new direction and make them a more powerful force than ever before.

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**--END GLOSSARY--**

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I will update this glossary regularly with new terms every chapter whenever someone new comes on-scene! I hope this helps confused readers!

Sources include Chronicle of Darkness (this story), PitcherBlacker, Wikipedia, Amita4ever's "_The History of Riddick A Writer's Tool_," and the Chronicles of Riddick series (movies, videogames, and books).

-Lynx Klaw


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